


Thicker Than Water

by mirwalker



Category: Thundercats (1985)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirwalker/pseuds/mirwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mumm-Ra trades brute strength for beauty and cunning for coy, in a new approach to defeating his feline foes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set between ThunderCats Ho! and Mumm-ra Lives, between the new ThunderCats' rescue and the Luna-Taks' arrival.

"He-e-e-elp!"

"Over there!" pointed Cheetara, toward the source of the surf-muffled scream. "It came from down by the shore."

She vanished into the direction she'd pointed, as the Thundertank, two spaceboards and their passengers all turned to follow.

Arriving first as usual, the fastest of the ThunderCats glanced about the broad beach for the Third Earthling in distress. About a hundred yards further east, she spotted a large pit in the sand, just above the rapidly approaching tide. Waving the others in its direction, she started toward it, but almost immediately stumbled to her knees. Knowing there had been nothing lying on the windswept shore on which she could have tripped, she glanced down to see a large red claw emerging from the sand, clutching at her ankle. Beside it a second poked through, and soon the rest of a Crabman followed.

Behind her, almost as soon as the Thundertank moved out onto the sand, dozens of other highly territorial scavengers surfaced, so that soon the beachscape was literally crawling with the clicking crustacean bipeds. Surrounded, the sprinter extended her javelin, and gave it a quick and meaningful swirl around her head—clearly defining a personal space the crabs were meant to respect.

As several of them nonetheless moved in her direction, flashes of smoke and light enveloped the surrounded Cheetara, and the surprised burrowers danced to and fro at a loss for where to run or fight back. As the cloud cleared, the limber sprinter dangled between the Thunderkittens, who steered their spaceboards toward the advancing Thundertank.

As Cheetara swung gracefully into the opening rear passenger compartment, Panthro drove the Tank into and carefully through the throngs, avoiding emerging claws and causing fully mobile Crabmen to dive from his path. Spinning the tank about suddenly, he brought it to a stop between the recovering army and the sandpit Cheetara had pointed out.

As ThunderCats spilled forth, fanning out to engage the oncoming cast, Lion-O called out to his team, "Remember, they're not evil, just responding to what they perceive as our invasion of their territory! Be gentle!"

Understanding that they simply needed to distract, not destroy, these adversaries, the felines braced for the fight.

A cry beside him returned Lion-o's attention to the reason they had "invaded," and he peered cautiously over the edge of the sandy hole. At the bottom, a meek Bolken was chained by his ankle to a large iron hook.

Seeing the friend arrived to help, the Bolken bleated up to the Lord of the ThunderCats, "Help me! The tide is coming in; and the pit will collapse on me or fill with water at any moment!"

Aware of the oncoming waves, and the din of gentle battle around him, Lion-O asked and instructed, "Can you pull the chain from the sand?"

"No, it's buried too deeply," bleated the terrified Third Earther. "Please help me!" As a wave surged inland, a segment of the sandy wall gave way below Lion-O, showering the captive with thick, heavy mud. Knee deep in wet sand, and more frightened than before, the Bolken shouted even more urgently in alarm, quieting only when Lion-O leapt into the pit beside him.

Keeping an eye on the increasingly unstable lip above them, Lion-O holstered the Sword of Omens, instructed the smaller being to "Be ready to climb as soon as you're free," and braced himself to apply his considerable strength to dislodging the heavy chain with both hands. With a mighty growl, the Lord of the ThunderCats heaved upward on the hook, which gave way with only the slightest resistance. Unprepared, the force of his pull rocketed the loosely held hook over his head and nearly pulled the chained Bolken out of the pit after it.

"What?" exclaimed Lion-O, recovering quickly enough to grab the Bolken's belt.

A crashing wave, the exiting hook and the stumbling ThunderCat proved too much for the grainy hole, and its edges buckled inward. After so quickly preventing the captive from flying out, Lion-O tucked him under an arm, and leapt out himself, just as the pit walls caved in entirely.

The several competing forces of momentum were enough to just keep Lion-O's boots from clearing the sands as the hole filled beneath him. Setting the Bolken safely at arms' length from the hole, Lion-o found himself buried up to the knee in a heavy mix of swirling, watery sand.

Seeing the other ThunderCats heading his way, and trusting then that Bolken was safe from the sands and their inhabitants, Lion-O turned his attention to dislodging himself from the slippery, sucking quagmire that the tideline had become. He was so focused on the up and down of his own feet, that he did not see the Skycutter swooping from high altitude directly toward him.

With a panicked but excited look on his face, Monkian pulled the machine out of its dive, just in time to brandish a knife and slice off a tuft of the ducking Lion-o's hair before leveling out over the water. The Thundertank fired a few shots in his fleeing direction; and though not quick enough to hit him, they were close enough to throw him slightly off balance. He wobbled away into the distance, howling in apparent terror and disappointment at having only gained a bit of mane for his opportunistic attack.

The Crabmen also had gotten the message, and were in full, burrowing retreat from the collected Thunderians.

No longer fighting on any front, Wiley Kit and Kat repeated their aerial extraction maneuver, and quickly had Lion-O wet but no worse the wear on solid sand among the others.

Nodding thanks to the twins, and turning quickly to others' well-being, Lion-O put a reassuring hand on the Bolken's still-shaking shoulder. "Be at peace, friend; you are free and safe once again." He glanced at his companions to confirm that they too were all present and unharmed.

Cheetara, javelin still at the ready, suggested, "And to remain so, we should move off the beach."

Panthro "Agreed. The Crabmen are easily riled and run off, but won't stay gone long if we stay."

"Come, friend," said the pride's leader, lifting the Bolken up into the Tank. "We'll get you home, and on the way, try to unravel this latest Mutant mystery."

Indeed Tygra began the investigation, as the Tank and team headed inland. "Your village raised the alarm as soon you were taken from the fields by the Mutants. But they made no ransom demands; and so no one has any idea why you were kidnapped. Do you?"

"No, I haven't, I'm afraid," admitted the little man. "The apeman and dogman literally swooped in, plucked me like a berbil-berry from among my own furrows, and planted me in that hole. As soon I was shackled, they all left; and I'm grateful that it wasn't long until you all arrived. Thank you again!"

Lion-O observed, "It seems clear they wanted your abduction to be noticed, or they could have waited for some less public time and place. And they didn't put up a fight at all on the beach; they let the Crabmen doing all the fighting. But why?"

Wiley Kit chimed in from her board a few feet above the open Tank, "Add it to the list of odd things they've done lately."

Cheetara agreed, "It is just the latest in a long history of seemingly pointless or particularly incompetent actions on the Mutants' part. Much they do seems poorly thought out, especially recently."

"Like when they attacked the Wollo caravan traveling through the Bramblewoods last week," suggested Wiley Kat. "Why pick such a sticky place to waylay a Wollo? I think we've only just mended all our clothes!"

"And I could swear that today, Monkian was still covered in the scratches he got," observed Lion-O.

"Well, we also know that just because their actions don't make sense to us, doesn't make them harmless," reminded Panthro from the driver's seat. "Even if we don't see what it is, and even if they don't seem to succeed, you can bet your berbil-berries that their intent was no good."

Everyone, even the Bolken, nodded.

"Thankfully," summarized Lion-O, "they've been little more than nuisances the past few months. And, clothes can be mended, and hair will grow back."

Heading back to the Bolken village and the Cat's Lair that afternoon, they carried the question of what it all meant.

* * *

Across Third Earth, another group debriefed the battle as well. Four forms entered the Black Pyramid, grumbling amongst themselves at the bumps and bruises the day's exploits had gained them for no apparent purpose. Jackalman catalogued his latest aches, from head to toe, and back again. Monkian's howl echoed down the stone passage, pointing out that he had bruises on his bruises after weeks of intentional losses to the ThunderCats. Vultureman crackled back that he was less concerned at the number and long history of the raids, than he was about their explicit pointlessness.

As the quartet followed their shouts into the sarcophagus chamber, their leader shook a handful of fiery red mane above his head sarcastically, "But you all forget the treasures these efforts have won. See what a powerful and priceless prize our sacrifices have gained us!"

Without warning, the tuft of hair leapt from Slithe's hand, sailing across the roiling cauldron and landing on a large stone altar at its far edge. Silenced by the sudden flight, they approached cautiously, and eventually could see the table also held a small heap of soil, a pile of multi-colored fur, a large flower blossom, and a decanter of what appeared to be water.

In the background, the grinding of stones heralded the revelation of a huddled, red-draped form as if spoken forth by the large skull canopy surrounding it. Above them, a kaleidoscope of lightning played into the vaulted heights through unseen cracks and windows. And without further introduction, the cloaked mummy glided forward, chiding its visitors with a soft power. "You must learn patience, Mutants, as well as a little humility." A peal of thunder rumbled through the stone walls, as if to emphasize the point.

Reaching the altar, Mumm-Ra finally looked up to face his henchmen, acknowledging and instructing them simultaneously. "Being driven off and beaten by the accursed ThunderCats is no recent development. It is a way of life for your wretched kind; you should not seem so surprised or distraught by your ineptitude. But," he soothed as a smug smile stretched across his much-wrinkled face, "take heart that these recent trounces are not in fact defeats, if like me you can take a longer view."

With a rustle of aging cloth, Mumm-Ra unfolded his arms, placed his hands on the stone table before him, and leaned against it in resignation. "I too have grown increasingly unhappy with your inability to secure any lasting victory against our common foe. I have vanquished so many opponents through the ages, I had almost forgotten that bitter staple of your people's diet: defeat."

The Mutants exchanged unhappy glances at the insult; and more than one considered pointing out that it was not their dish alone when it came to the feline adversaries.

As if reading the simple text of their minds, yet without ceding the point to them, Mumm-Ra continued, "But it has been served to us all too often of late, and so I have given much thought to what distinguishes the ThunderCats from the many others I have decimated over the ages." In his mind, his long memory recounted how most had fallen prey to simpler schemes or spells, others had required slightly more complex or ingenuous ruses, and a very few had ultimately been overpowered only by a convergence of all his skills and servants.

"The ThunderCats call for a somewhat different and more persistent approach. I have been testing and learning them as they reacted and, true, bested my time-honored tricks. I have finally come to understand that they must be approached in their own way: with patience, stealth, and cunning. To hunt a cat, you must become a cat, stalking its prey—slow-moving, silent and suddenly swift. And so see now that the bumps and scratches you've received in gathering hairs from each of the ThunderCats over the recent weeks, these have been small steps in a larger plan to take the noble ThunderCats at their own wholesome game!"

Slithe, Monkian, Jackalman and Vultureman exchanged nervous, but excited glances in the flickering light. None wanted to suggest in front of the others that he didn't understand what was happening; yet, none did know. And all were more than a little anxious to learn.

Withered hands shot up above the altar, cutting off their minimal introspection, as the wizard shrieked, "Ancient Spirits of Evil, for thousands of years I have served you well. In the days of earlier Earths, I wrecked havoc upon these lands—despoiling, disrupting and defiling all that grew pure and good. Indeed, by the time the wretched ThunderCats arrived short years ago, nothing of substance remained on this miserable planet except scattered, splintered communities and decaying ruins of ancient splendors. Such was the handiwork of Mumm-Ra, the Ever-Living!" As he spoke, he seemed to grow, not in size but still of stature; his pride and success feeding his very being.

"Yet, I sense well how you share my frustration at the rays of hope and contagion of courage that these aliens from Thundera have brought with them. How all our ages of evil-done-well have failed to prepare us to stand against these few, foreign felines. And how none of our time-honored subterfuge, foul deeds or malicious machinations has succeeded against them." With these admissions, Mumm-Ra seemed to grow smaller again, as if weighed down by the shame of failure in the angry eyes of the tall figures around his cauldron.

"And so, my ageless ancestors, I call upon you this day for an altogether new assistance. Your humble servant understands at last the unique needs and risks this unique foe requires; and he offers you a sacrifice of himself to turn the tide. I offer to take upon myself a novel peril, in order to create a novel peril for the fight. Tonight, I call upon all your powers to create for us an ally that is of both Third Earth and Thundera. One that is both friend and foe to the wretched ThunderCats. One that will bring them down finally and forever!"

With fervor none the Mutants remembered seeing from him at any previous time, the mummy leapt upon the altar and shouted as if the words themselves were weapons hurled. "Ancient Spirits of Evil, transform this decayed form to Mumm-Ra, the Ever-Living! And from your ever-faithful servant, accept now these offerings as ingredients for a new and most insidious servant."

As he continued his transformation and his incantation, the items on the stone table rose and circled around him; as he named each, it was pulled hungrily and whole into the now-bubbling cauldron. "Accept this clay to make body whole. Accept this water to make body soft. Accept this blossom to make body beautiful. Accept these hairs to make body… kin!"

As the last pinches of fur fell into the boiling froth, the surface heaved down and then up in a mighty spray. When it had fallen back into the basin, remaining above it was a dark, still form.

Cackling with euphoric delight, Mumm-Ra leapt from the stone table, alighting at the very edge of the cauldron, his entire body alive with the wild energies playing about the room. Casting his arms out to his sides, he seemed to careen forward as he added a final ingredient: "And, accept this second of time in the life of the Ever-Living, to make body… live!" A surge of energy ripped from Mumm-Ra, and encased the silhouette suspended before him in a blinding light that slowly sank into the form, as if absorbed there.

A sharp and stuttering gasp filled the cavernous chamber, as its population increased instantly by one. And before Slithe could determine whether the startled in-breath came from him, one of his fellow Mutants or someone else, Mumm-Ra turned smugly to him, and commanded, "Now, Slithe, for the reunion. Get me the _Vertus_ …"

* * *

Unnoticed by anyone amidst the grander spectacle, a cobweb swung empty above the now still cauldron's surface, its builder-occupant lost to the magical tumult of the previous moments.


	2. Chapter 2

Panthro and Tygra poured over the Cat's Lair control boards as alarms sounded and alerts blinked all around them. The doors to the command center slid open, and the ThunderCats not already on duty poured in to assist.

"We're receiving a transmission that's addressed to us _and_ the Mutants!" reported Panthro, with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

"I'm also detecting a ship entering orbit on the far side of Third Earth," added Tygra.

"Are the two connected?" asked Lion-O, as the others checked the readouts on various pieces of equipment around the room, hoping to add some additional information and insights to the situations.

"Not sure yet," admitted the ninjaneer, never taking his eyes off the readouts before him. "But we should probably assume so, just in case."

"Automated transmission on-screen now," called out Tygra as the giant display above them blinked to life.

Larger than life, a monocled face appeared and spoke without waiting for acknowledgement or other reply. "Greetings, ThunderCats and Mutants. It is I, Captain Shiner of the starship _Vertus_.(1) As you have undoubtedly detected, our arrival on Third Earth is imminent; and we are carrying an item that should be of interest to you all: a Thunderian survivor."

A gasp passed among the ThunderCats—a mix of hope at the news of another kinsman located, and of disgust at his being in the possession of this ruthless mercenary.

Shiner continued, oblivious to the expected reaction. "It would bring me great joy to reunite the refugee and family, yet… You all know me to be a man of honor; and so I must be fair to all interested parties. And, as you know that I am also a business man, you'll also understand that I must seek to recover the significant investment I've made in acquiring, transporting and caring for this very important person.

"Therefore, while I have received numerous offers for this prized passenger, I knew that you both would be the most invested and interested, and so trust that one of you will offer the best price." He paused to let his fair-handed generosity sink in, and tapped a panel off-screen.

"In one half-hour, we will transport down with the Thunderian at the following coordinates, halfway between your respective strongholds. That should give each side just enough time to gather your ample offer and reach the site. I look forward to doing business with the highest bidder."

The screen blinked off, as the transmission was ended by the sender.

"Do you think it's true?" pondered Wiley Kit aloud, voicing everyone's disbelief.

"What are the chances Shiner's actually found a Thunderian?"

"And what can we offer him if so?"

All vertically-irised eyes in the room turned to their leader, whose own eyes had not turned from the now blank screens.

Arms crossed and stroking his chin in thought, he almost seemed not to have heard their discussion. He then decreed, "We must go regardless. If he has captured our countryman, we must free him. And if not, the rendezvous is undoubtedly no good, and worth investigating, if not interrupting. We go!"

And as the team turned to make ready, he added, "But first we make a quick call…"

* * *

Arriving at the remote site just in time, the ThunderCats found themselves at the edge of a broad river, and spread out on either side of the Thundertank. On the opposite shore, Slithe and his gang were just pulling up in their vehicles. And between them, in the middle of the shallow stream, was a low sandbar just large enough for several people. Neither faction appeared to have brought any riches or treasure with them; and so the empty spit of land between them seemed to well represent their similarities.

Despite the absence of obvious payment, Slithe couldn't help but remark on the fact that his honorable adversaries had even attended the pending auction. "Well, well, it seems the ThunderCats can't resist a bargain after all. And how much is a Thunderian life worth to you, Lion-O? We're counting on clearance prices!"

"We didn't come to buy or barter, you toad!" shouted Bengali, incensed at the idea of putting a price, much less a low one, on a life.

Thrilled at escalating insults, Jackalman cackled, "Ooh, the high and mighty ThunderCats resort to name-calling after all. Their standards _are_ falling, Slithe!" The others howled at the questionable character points Jackalman had scored.

Any further banter was cut short by the overhead hum of a descending, fishlike starship which floated along the river's course well above the water and came to rest over the neutral isle.

Precisely on schedule, the convening captain, two guards and a hooded captive in an ill-fitting jumpsuit beamed down between the bidding parties.

"Welcome," warmly stated the monocled figure, not surprised but still pleased to see that all his potential clients had attended. "I am sure our… guest… will be quite pleased to know the level of interest shown by such punctuality."

"We do not barter for people, Shiner," Lion-O interjected before he could waste more time beginning his 'sale.' "You will release your _hostage_ at once, and leave Third Earth."

The gentleman mercenary chuckled, admitting, "You have no poverty of principle, Lord Lion-O—admirable, truly admirable. But alas, honor does not pay the bills. Call it a transit fare, a finder's fee or simply a grateful reward; it matters little to me what helps you sleep at night. But whatever you call it, compensation for services rendered is more than fair. And if not you, I'm sure the Mutants will recognize reason…" He turned invitingly toward Slithe and company on the opposite bank.

"Our apologies on behalf of the peoples of Third Earth, Captain," Slithe shook his large head sadly. "It is so like the ThunderCats to offer only self-righteous demands. However, we Mutants understand and appreciate the importance of offering something for your troubles. In exchange for your cargo, we are prepared to give you… your life!"

On cue, each Mutant pulled out a weapon or two, aiming variously at Shiner, his men, the ship and the ThunderCats.

Reflexively, the 'Cats assumed their own defensive positions, as a tenuous stalemate quickly settled in.

Shiner seemed surprised by this turn of events, before quickly holding up his hands to both bidding parties. "Come now, my friends," he said not entirely calmly, "there's really no need for anyone"—he nodded to his men—"to get hurt…"

Taking the cue, one _Vertus_ crewmember roughly pushed their captive to the ground, and turned his gun menacingly on the crouching figure.

Without taking their eyes off their Plun-darr foes, the ThunderCats collectively growled; while the Mutants cackled at the Thunderian's harsh treatment, and the escalating threats overall.

Before anyone could add or remove additional tension, a large shadow passed over the area. As eyes glanced skyward to identify the source, the shallows between the ThunderCats and the _Vertus_ party erupted in a blast of energy.

"Mumm-ra!" shouted several voices simultaneously, as the giant blue and red form settled onto the sand bar.

"Come to claim his rightful prize," cackled the wizard. Confident his entrance had given everyone enough motivation to comply, he turned toward the increasingly nervous guards. "I shall take this new find, as a lesson to you all against failing to invite Mumm-ra!"

Increasingly unhappy at how the simple transaction seemed not to be going as planned, Shiner objected. "No offense intended, mighty Mumm-ra. I assumed the Mutants would be representing your interests in this enterprise. If I was mistaken, I apologize, and of course welcome your bid…"

"Mumm-ra the Ever-living does _not_ negotiate, trader…," he corrected, stepping forward menacingly. "He takes!"

Blinking feverishly, the starship master's cool demeanor seemed to be slipping, as the threats increased and the enterprise's apparent profitability decreased with each utterance. "Beyond my own interest in recouping costs, I rather doubt our other parties will take well to the favoritism of such gifting on my part…" He looked to the ThunderCats and the Mutants, _hoping_ in fact one or both sides would intervene.

"We were doing well enough, Mumm-ra," shouted Slithe, with perhaps less confidence than his words alone told. "We didn't ask for your help, or need it…"

"How dare you…" chided the sorcerer, as he turned toward the far river bank.

An expected Mutant-mummy alliance perhaps not holding, everyone shifted their weapons and footing in mutual indications of readiness and resolve; and both _Vertus_ guards tightened their grip and aim on their prisoner. As the two pistols turned on the silent hood, a blur hurtled through the air, knocking the guns from their hands.

"The ThunderCats are not without their own friends," laughed Lynx-O, sensing the arrival.

Indeed, Mandora the Evil Chaser swept past on her Electro-charger,(2) shouting down at Shiner as the boomslang returned to her hand, "Captain, I'm taking you into custody on suspicion of transporting and dealing in slaves across the space lines, conducting business transactions without proper permits, and failing to assess and submit appropriate taxes on commercial activities." She circled around again, and headed directly for the merchant.

"No price is worth this," exclaimed Shiner, finally recognizing the day's deal had slipped through his fingers. "Take us up," he shouted, as first he and then his crewmen dissolved in a shimmer of light.

Desperate to distract at least some of their possible pursuers, one guard shoved the prisoner into the water before he vanished; and the remaining players on the scene all moved to converge on that prize.

Reacting most quickly, the ThunderCats leapt into action, splitting into three teams: Lion-O and Cheetara moved quickly between the mummy and the prisoner and ship, keeping him from interfering with either's escape. Tygra and Bengali in the Thundertank and the Thunderkittens on their boards crossed beyond this action, to engage the excited but unfocused Mutants. And the physically strongest among them, Panthro, waded into the stream after the floundering captive, with Pumyra on guard close behind.

Mumm-ra found himself surrounded by reflections as Lion-O advanced brandishing the Sword and claw shield, as the silver-hulled starship turned in place trying to evade the dogged law enforcer, and as the shallow water mirrored all the action above its surface. Shrieking in self-revulsion and frustration at the apparent defeat, the mummy warrior fled into the skies opposite the diminishing _Vertus_ and law officer without looking back.

Seeing that their only potential ally was fleeing, and that the multi-sided confusion would not give them an opportunity to make gains against anyone, the Mutants too cut their losses. Retreating to their vehicles parked along the treeline, they joined the rushed withdrawal, howling and hooting in hopes of a clean getaway.

As the other Cats gave slight chase to each villain for good measure, Panthro finally reached their rescued countryman, who had taken full advantage of the confusion and was inchworming away from the now-fading sounds of battle. Calling out, he splashed toward the damp and desperate figure, "Hold, friend; I'm coming. You're safe now!"

Reaching him, Panthro hauled him from the water and onto the bank, slicing through the shackling ropes around his hands in the same, quick motion.

Still frightened and hooded, the figure growled and lashed out at this latest manhandling, claws cutting Panthro on the cheek and arm.

Clutching his wounds as the other 'Cats gathered 'round, Panthro growled, "Well that's gratitude for you. You'd think he'd be anxious to have those cuffs off…"

Still covered, crouching and hissing in the center of the circled heroes, the former captive turned in place, not sure whether or from where the next touch, tackle or torture might come.

Pumyra stepped in, noting, "Wait, I don't think 'he's' a 'he'…" Speaking in a very calm, soft and soothing voice, she narrated her own slow, gradual approach toward the cowering form—reassuring that she was only trying to help. Carefully, and continuing to explain her every movement, she gently pulled the hood up and off of the figure. "There," she soothed, "that's better."

Shifting to one side, Pumyra let the others see that what she had suspected was true: The Thunderian was indeed a woman, with bright green eyes alive with fear, and a wild patchwork of hair color surrounding a pale but dirtied face. She held one hand out before her, both to block the sudden sunlight, and perhaps the blows she anticipated despite their apparent good intentions.

"She's trembling."

"Filthy and famished too, I'd bet," said Wily Kit. "I'll get a canteen from the Thundertank."

"Let's get her out of the sun, and back to the Lair where we can sort it all out in safety," suggested Bengali, eyeing the skies suspiciously.

Heads nodded as Pumyra was handed the cat head-capped water bottle. Turning back to the wide-eyed woman, she offered it, and then demonstrated opening and drinking from it.

Hesitantly, the shaking hand accepted the gift; and she took a few sips without breaking her scrutiny of her rescuers.

"I'm Pumyra," the closest one smiled, pointing to herself. "What's your name?"

Still wary, but appreciative of the refreshing water, the woman spoke low and hoarse, "The men. Who held me. They called me… Calica."

"It's nice to meet you, Calica," smiled Pumyra. "If you're OK standing, we'll head home; and I'll introduce you to the other ThunderCats." She stood and stretched out her arm to help up the new friend.

Slowly, stiffly, and even a little skeptically, Calica got to her feet. Clutching the canteen, and staying very close to Pumyra, she climbed into the Thundertank. Wide-eyed, she watched everyone else settle in, giving her as much room as they could in the limited space.

"Panthro," whispered Tygra, noting she was still eyeing the panther with particular attention, "It's probably best to leave the roof open. Closing her in again might frighten her..."

"Kit, Kat, stay sharp," warned Lion-O to the escorts hovering beside the tank. "If Mumm-ra or the Mutants are really interested, they may not wait long to try again…"

As they sped Lair-ward, all eyes shifted between the various horizons and their new guest; she watched them watching her, and spared increasing gazes to the equally unfamiliar landscapes and open sky passing by.

* * *

The ThunderCats gathered in the Council chamber to consider what to do with Shiner's frightened and feisty gift. As Panthro entered from securing the Thundertank, and Tygra from setting the Lair's automated defenses to their highest level, Snarf and Wily Kit entered from the kitchen with a tray of simple foods for their guest. Snarf had been adamant they be nutritious, but not strong in flavor or spice, as their still silent new arrival would need to build up to fuller foods, after apparently being near starvation so long.

With much reassurance and a little encouragement from Pumyra, Calica finally wasted no time in grabbing handfuls of the offered meal and stuffing them into her mouth. With a few unsuccessful suggestions that she eat more slowly, Pumyra finally relented and joined the others across the room, noting, "She eats as though she's never had a full meal before. What kind of animals Shiner's crew are to treat someone this way?"

"She still hasn't said a word beyond telling us her name," worried Cheetara.

"And she won't be able to, if she keeps shoveling in her supper like that," observed Wily Kat.

"Even if we do not yet know the details, we can assume she has been through an ordeal," reminded Lynx-O. "It is best we tend to her physical needs; and so earn her trust and story in due time."

Until then, they could surmise some information…

"Her markings don't clearly indicate an ancestry from any one of the Thunderian noble clans," observed Tygra. "It's obvious she has a mixed heritage."

Such blending of bloodlines had not always been positively viewed on Thundera, especially among the older aristocratic families. But those values had been diminishing in recent generations, and certainly weren't practical given the destruction and diaspora of so many of their people. One more change in thought and tradition demanded by survival pragmatism…

Voicing those very thoughts running through the collected minds, Pumyra confirmed, "Whatever her name, heritage or history, it's clear she is Thunderian, and so deserves our assistance and friendship."

Heads nodded around the room, except for one, bald and blue. "She _seems_ to be Thunderian; we only know what she appears to be."

"Panthro, I know you and she got started on the wrong paw, but…"

"It hurts, Lion-O," Panthro acknowledged, touching the clear lines on his cheek. "But this is not a response to her scratching me; I understand she was afraid, and was trying to protect herself. I'm concerned about our history of unexpected and mysterious visitors who turned out not to be who they appeared."

"You're thinking of Pumm-Ra?" asked Kit.(3)

"Among others," nodded Panthro. "I'm not saying she is trouble; just that we need to be a little cautious."

"And we can be, while still giving her the benefit of the doubt."

"Are you suggesting anything specifically, Panthro?" asked the blind 'Cat.

"First, I think Lion-O could consult the Sword of Omens, to see if it offers any insight into her origin and nature."

"But wouldn't the Sword have alerted us already if it knew she was a threat?" asked Bengali, from over the elder's shoulder.

"The Sword only reacts when a ThunderCat is in immediate danger," reminded Cheetara. "But it also has the ability to share other insights, even when the peril is not so acute. Somewhat like my sixth sense."(4)

Lion-O interjected to head off any unnecessary requests of their resident semi-psychic. "But asking the Sword has no ill effect on me, as does using your extrasensory perception. So I will inquire with Sword shortly. What other precautions do you think wise, Panthro?"

"Even as we learn more about her, she needs to learn her way around the Lair, and how we do things. We could keep an eye on her while doing that, by keeping her chaperoned at all times, and making some, more sensitive areas off-limits to her for the time being."

The suggestions seemed more than reasonable to everyone—wise but welcoming. With no dissent or additional suggestions immediately, and seeing the meal across the room had been finished while they talked, Lion-O set them all into initial action. "It seems we are in agreement on how to begin with the new member of our pride. And so, as you seem to have built a rapport with her, she can stay next to you, Pumyra, in West Four."(5)

The healer smiled and stepped quickly toward the woman who was watching them earnestly over the now empty bowls and plates. "Thank you for the meal, Snarf," Pumyra modeled. "Calica, would you like to come with me to get cleaned up and find something more comfortable to wear? Cheetara, Wily Kit, would you care to join us?"

As the women headed off to settle in their new sister, the men sat down to hammer out a set of schedules and guidelines to integrate her, provisionally, into the community.

* * *

"Well, I _don't_ understand!" howled Jackalman, pacing wildly in the Castle Plun-darr banquet room. "He gave her to Shiner, then told us to get her back. Then _he_ shows up demanding her for himself. He's mad!"

Rolling his eyes at the rant, Slithe continued to chew his stew.

"I thought I finally understood our weeks of fur-gathering, when he threw it all in his magical wading pool," cooed the vulture at the other end of the table. "But he did attempt to prevent their rescuing her, when that was the whole point. If that Evil Chaser hadn't shown up to help the ThunderCats, he might just have succeeded."

"Never mind him," groaned Monkian, " _We_ got beaten… again! Whatever Mumm-ra's playing at, we're paying for it…"

Into the midst of the dinner debate, a flash of blue and white flame erupted, dissipating into a transparent image of a withered mummy cloaked in red. The frog-dog which had been licking a bone on the floor under the table, yelped and scampered from the room.(6)

Before any of the others could retreat, the vision hissed at them. "Such little faith and foresight, Mutant. A wonder you take courage enough to dress yourself each morning."

Slithe chuckled at the fully formed insults the ghostly image was able to deliver, before finally joining the conversation. "He surprised us at the river—and Shiner too, I'd bet," he deduced, "because he _wanted_ us to look surprised. Yes, Mumm-ra? You need the ThunderCats to feel they've earned her from us…? To believe her story and so to value her more?"

The vision turned to the large reptile with a wicked grin, "At last, some sign of evil insight. I had begun to worry about my choice in minions…"

"Hoo-! Will someone explain what is going on?" cried Monkian, nearly bouncing in his seat. "Do we or do we not want the ThunderCats to have her?"

"You really have no imagination, ape," bemoaned the mummy. "They must have her if she's to have them. So, go try to get her back!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Introduced in _Sword in a Hole_ (1.35).
> 
> 2\. First Class Controller with the Interplanetary Control Force, introduced in Mandora the Evil Chaser (1.10).
> 
> 3\. Episode _Pumm-Ra_ (1.6).
> 
> 4\. Introduced in _The Ghost Warrior_ (1.11).
> 
> 5\. Guest quarters mentioned in _Pumm-Ra_ (1.6).
> 
> 6\. A small and easily-startled pet seen in Castle Plun-darr, and frozen in place by the Warbot, in _Return to Thundera_ (1.20).


	3. Chapter 3

Removing it from its Claw Shield scabbard, the leader of the pride took a deep breath and uttered the familiar command to the mightiest of ThunderCat relics, "Sword of Omens, give me sight beyond sight." Concentrating on a mental image of the frightened refugee, his orange eyes peered into the swirling mists, as the weapon's hilt curled and extended. "Show me more of our new arrival."

Quickly, discrete forms coalesced from the mottled colors; and the Lord of the ThunderCats was witnessing a scene clearly unfolding deep in Castle Plun-darr:

_"…Get her back!" the mummy commanded, before vanishing into column of dark smoke, leaving the collected Mutants in a state of frantic frustration._

_"How are we supposed to do that?"_

_"He's the reason we didn't get her earlier today!"_

_"It's not like they'll send her out alone any time soon."_

_"Perhaps if we just asked nicely…"_

_A brief pause as the complaints were interrupted, before they erupted into howls of laughter at the absurdity of it all…_

"What did you see, Lion-O?" asked the Council's leader, noting his slight, knowing smile.

"Nothing unexpected, Tygra. Just Mumm-Ra ordering the Mutants to capture Calica; and, as usual, their being frightened and critical of him, with no idea on how to go about it." He confidently and carefully lay the again-sleeping Sword onto the table before him.

"Well that makes it clear that she's worth holding onto, if for no other reason than Mumm-Ra wants her," concluded the youngest 'Cat present.

The white tiger growled in agreement with Wily Kat, "Whatever her history, we can't let him or the Mutants get their hands on her."

"Indeed, my friends," considered their blind elder. "But as certain as we are of that future for her, secure with us, we still know nothing of her past... Where did the mercenary find her, and how did he come to possess her? Where has she been in these years since the destruction of our beloved Thundera? And what was her life, who were her family before our exodus? Many questions still…"

"And as the Sword provided neither answers nor alarm, we are left with what we may discover and she may remember," summarized Tygra, as everyone looked to Lion-O for some indication of their next step on that journey.

He felt more than their eyes upon him as he weighed the few facts and many questions before them. He well remembered being too quick to trust their first alleged expatriate(1), when welcoming Cheetara's rescuer resulted in their greatest Third Earth enemy's nearly destroying Cats' Lair from the inside. Mumm-Ra had also impersonated a gentle Berbil, a diamond fly and the generous plant Silky in efforts to entrap and destroy them; even one of their own had seemed to turn against them when Mumm-Ra cloned him.(2) The ThunderCats could not afford to offer such naïve trust again; and so caution had come to stand alongside courtesy and curiosity in this new world.

And yet, not all surprise visitors had been ill-intentioned or ultimately harmful. The miniature spacecraft that had connected with Cheetara's psychic ability had genuinely needed their help.(3) The mystical Wizz-Ra had both needed and offered assistance in battling Mumm-Ra.(4) And their rescue of Snarf's nephew had re-introduced them to an entire planet of the faithful companions.(5) Most recently, the small surviving community had been overjoyed at their reunion with Bengali, Pumyra and Lynx-O(6)—three additions who had increased their numbers by half again. Beyond the numbers themselves, their discovery had brought hope that there might be other Thunderians out there. That the Third Earth Lair was not simply a museum to an all-but-extinct tradition, but rather a colony—one of perhaps many—from which their culture would be rebuilt. How could Lion-O deny that swell of optimism?

No, the ThunderCats needed that hope, and would not be ThunderCats if they allowed fear and suspicion to overwhelm their Code and customs. And so Lion-O chose _both_ necessary paths. "In hopes she is only the latest of our kin to find us," he gestured to the other recent additions to Cats' Lair, "We will offer what her protection and recuperation we can. We will extend our hospitality, and earn her trust as she earns ours… And so my friends," he called up a map of the fortress on the viewscreen, "let's hear some suggestions on where, when and with whom our Calica should be…"

As ideas for rooms, tasks and chaperones for the next few days flew, Panthro sat silently at the far edge of the table, unable to argue any of his colleagues' points, but still inexplicably uncomfortable with their newcomer.

* * *

"It is nice to have another woman in the Lair," confided Cheetara from deep in the storage trunk, as Pumyra pulled a brush through Calica's multicolored mane. "We all get along well, of course; but even when we discovered Pumyra, Lynx-O and Bengali, seven men to three of us was still a little unfair..."

"And that's not even counting Jaga's presence, or all the male allies," added the groomer. "Still, I'd argue that it takes that many of them to equal us!"

The newest sister smiled shyly, as the other women laughed at the reversal of the odds. Then she grimaced as the brush caught in a multi-colored tangle; and Pumyra gasped, "I'm sorry, Cali; I didn't mean to do that. I'd swear your hair had never been cut or combed before." Her eyes narrowed as she spoke the next names. "One more reason I'd love to get my claws on that Shiner and the other traders who did this to you."

Another handful of fabric flew from the closet, as Wily Kit poked her head out, glancing from the dress she held up to Calica across the room, comparing them. "I can't decide if you're a whiz to dress, or impossible; whether your colorings go or clash with everything!"

"Something simple, Kit," suggested Cheetara, stepping gingerly through the scattered garments and selecting a few pieces. Turning toward the wide-eyed woman on the bed, she presented some options, "What do you think of these?"

"I… I don't know," stammered Calica, genuinely unsure how to judge the simple khaki tunic and sky blue, short-sleeved shirt.

Cheetara held up the shirt and draped it on Calica, holding it in place as she looked up to see the model's reaction to the fashion suggestion. Almost immediately on touching hands to shoulders, the fastest of the ThunderCats went completely still and rigid, as she slipped away from her body and surroundings…

_The disorienting fog gave way to a vision of Calica's piercing green eyes. The emerald orbs didn't blink, or vary, or hold any obvious emotion—they simply held Cheetara transfixed._

_Startled by the sudden intrusion of the waking-dream, Cheetara nonetheless smiled back, before waves of dread and sorrow overtook her senses. The scene grew to show those eyes remaining open as Calica lay too still on grassy ground. As the scene expanded further, Cheetara was alarmed to see the new arrival motionless at the feet of a full-in-fury Mumm-Ra, shrieking and laughing over her._

_Wanting to act though she knew the apparition to be just that, Cheetara shouted aloud, "No!" as the sixth sense shifted suddenly, to show a similar sight in a new setting: Two green eyes again peered up at her from a reclined position, but these were smaller, comfortable and sleepy._

_Willing her gift to provide more context, more insight, Cheetara's point of view floated away from the little face, eventually seeing the eyes were those of an infant, cradled in the arms of the Lord of the ThunderCats as he paced and rocked it gently in the balcony of the Cats' Lair open jaws. Faintly, perhaps sadly, as her perspective continued to drift away despite her efforts to remain, she heard his voice speaking softly over the drowsy child, "There, there, little Couga. Sleep… Sleep…"_

"Cheetara!," shouted a voice above the whisper and the winds.

_The vision grew darker and murky, even as the scene shrank and moved away._

"Are you alright?" someone was asking, as steady hands helped her to sit on the bed's edge.

"Yes, yes," she assured softly, hand to her head as the disorientation of shifting back to reality was replaced with a wash of exhaustion. She forced herself to smile, tiredly, realizing that Wily Kit stood before her with eyes wide in concern, and Pumyra sat behind her with a hand reassuringly on her back.

Calica looked at her with frightened confusion, not having understood what was happening but clear that it was not good. And so yet again, those green eyes transfixed Cheetara, until she forced her own shut again.

"You had a vision," deduced Kit.

"Yes. I'm fine," Cheetara repeated as much for herself as for them. "I just need some time to make sense of it…" And nodding toward the mirror across the room, she encouraged, "Go ahead, Calica, see what you think of the outfit on you."

Trusting that there was no more immediate alarm, Kit picked up the top and skirt, and motioned Calica to follow her. Pumyra slid down beside Cheetara, not so ready to forget the past moment's worries. And all turned their eyes and attention, mostly, to their motley-marked guest.

Comfortable with, but not oblivious to, their polite presence, Calica dropped the towel she had swapped for her _Vertus_ coveralls, and slipped into the suggested, more appropriately Thunderian outfit. She smoothed the slightly too-large garments, and looked up at her audience expectantly.

"Awww," cooed Kit with a happy clap of her hands, "If we take it in a little in a couple of places, it'll be perfect."

"We'll just finish with your hair, and you'll be all set…" agreed Pumyra.

Calica blushed sheepishly, pleased her new friends approved, especially as she didn't have any basis on which to evaluate the ensemble herself.

With slightly more energy than moments before, Cheetara also smiled and again suggested she see for herself.

Kit walked Calica to the full-length mirror on the far wall, as they both pulled at points where the fabric didn't quite lay perfectly. Looking up at her reflection as the Kitten continued to fuss with the shoulder straps, Calica saw herself for the first time. Shrieking in apparent fear, the newcomer covered her eyes and recoiled, as her sisters started and stared at one another in their own surprise.

* * *

Later that night, in another wing of the Lair, Lion-O lay awake, his mind swimming with the day's events: The unexpected announcement and arrival of another Thunderian survivor. A near battle with Mumm-Ra and the Mutants. The sadly necessary caution tempering their rescue and reunion. And, as if that weren't enough in a single afternoon, they closed the day with the disturbing news of Cheetara's vision and Calica's extreme reaction to her own reflection.

For all these reasons and more, he was unable to turn his thoughts from her.

As a ThunderCat, and even more so as their leader, he was protective of all his people as well as those friends and allies not originally of Thundera. And so his concern for her was to be expected. Similarly, heeding Panthro's caution at bringing her too quickly or easily into their trust, Lion-O also needed to be mindful of her as they all grew to know one another better; whether by malice or misunderstanding, she could be a problem for the small cat community.

But, though he had good reasons, Lion-O knew that his preoccupation with her was more than duty.

Though he hadn't known her a day, he couldn't stop thinking about her–not her presence, or her past or her motives. Rather, his memory replayed the few moments he'd actually spent with her in their short hours of acquaintance: Her eyes as the hood came off at her rescue—wide and fierce. Her calmer, but still tense, stance and stare during the ride back to the Cat's Lair. The drape of her hand-me-down outfit as she hovered nervously beside Pumyra as goodnights were said. And the shifting, but consistent, intensity with which she looked at them all, but perhaps him especially, throughout the day.

And the feelings accompanying these images were different, more… urgent and powerful than the sense of interest in and obligation to any of his other friends or cares. There was almost an eagerness to see her and be seen by her, an active curiosity about how, and who, she was. After just a few short and largely silent hours, he wanted to know more about her, everything about her. _Her._

In short, he concluded, she haunted his thoughts. In way no one else in his brief, but eventful, life had, she intrigued him; and he enjoyed the novel experience. Lying in his bed, he smiled thinking about her, and again for thinking about thinking about her.

And then he grimaced, suddenly realizing the problem inherent in the sway this stranger seemed to have over him. He sat up, and shook his head—physically bothered by the conflict of the influence of, and his interest in, her. This… attention was not appropriate for ThunderCat, much less their leader. It was already distracting him from sleep; what else might this fixation keep him from? And so, was Panthro's concern well-placed—that she was trouble?

Confused, restless and needing to work off the excess energy keeping him awake, he put on a loose shirt and wandered into the winding corridors of the Lair. Treading even more silently than usual without his boots, he circled through the great hall, up into the ballista chambers below the great cat's shoulders(7), and out onto the high maw of the Lair. Finding no usual comfort in the moonlit view or breeze, he continued his prolonged pace back into the fortress, alone with his silent thoughts.

Until he heard the screaming. Before even consciously deciding to, he was running toward the source, somewhere near West Four. His mind swam with possibilities as he sprinted: Their suspicions had been correct, and the new arrival had become some threat to her neighbor, Pumyra, and the larger community. They should not have taken her in so readily, or left her unattended even to sleep.

No, he understood as he ran that his fear was that something was happening _to_ Calica. The chill and anger that flowed through him was that he had somehow welcomed her into their homes, and then allowed harm to come to her.

He reached the guestroom door as cries continued to sound beyond it. Swiping it open, he was startled when a gown-clad figure fell into him, and wrapped its arms around him, trembling.

Though none had been as awake or as near as their leader, the other ThunderCats arrived within seconds of one another. Weapons ready, they slid past him and fanned out into the bedroom to find and face the midnight foe that had so distraught their guest.

"You were here first, Lion-O; did you see anything?" asked Bengali.

"No, no," he stammered. "With all the excitement of the day, I hadn't been able to sleep. I'd gone for a walk, and happened to be on the next level…" he explained, as Calica's breathing continued to calm in his embrace. "I got here just before you, and she was already at the door."

Seeing and sensing nothing but the distress of the woman clinging to Lion-O, they all turned back to the doorway of the apparently empty room.

The crisis passed, and lacking any other explanation, Pumyra took one of her hands and asked "Calica, was it a bad dream?"

Reassured by the others' presence, and their leader's gentle protection, Calica turned to face them, wiping wet eyes. She didn't move away from Lion-O, but rather gazed out at the assembly from behind his draped shirt and arms. "I… I guess so," her eyes fluttered as she seemed to remember and relive the experience. "I saw such horrible things. And it seemed so real. Explosions, collapsing structures… and the screaming. So much fear and suffering!"

"She's remembering the destruction of Thundera," suggested Wily Kat.

"She would have only been a child," calculated Tygra.

"And being back among Thunderians, safe again, the memories have come back?" Cheetara wondered.

"We still don't know where she's been all these years. It could be other horrors she's experienced since," reminded Lynx-o.

Pumyra turned back to their guest, and gently pressed for more information. "I'm sorry to ask; but do you remember any details of the dreams? Do you know where you were? Or with whom?"

Crossing her arms defensively, Calica attempted to recall something more to share with these new friends who seemed so interested and eager to help. Her eyes fluttered, her face contorted and she sank back against Lion-O. But as she was buffeted by images and emotions, she could not identify their names or source, simply the terror of experiencing it all again. Closing her eyes and shaking her head, as if to ward off the old events, she whispered "no" repeatedly.

Feeling her begin to shake again, Lion-O reassured instinctively, "It's alright, Calica. If it's too difficult…"

"We should let her sleep, if she can; and talk again in the morning," suggested Tygra, motioning them all toward the door.

Calica clutched at Lion-O's arm, and turned pleading eyes to Pumyra, not wanting them to leave her alone with the terrible thoughts, but not sure whether and how to say so.

"I was up already; I'll stay with her a while," offered Lion-O, as the healer nodded her intent to remain as well.

Satisfied that there was no more danger than bad memories, the gathered guardians headed back to their own rooms, the older 'Cats exchanging raised eyebrows and curious glances as they nodded and made their way out.

Pumyra poured a glass of water, as Lion-O led Calica back to the bed. Accepting a sip to drink, and offering a fragile smile of thanks, she closed her eyes as they pulled up the sheets and each took up a seat at either side of the bed.

It took some time before the guest again fell into a solid, if fitful, sleep. And Pumyra noted how Lion-O never took his eyes off of her as she drifted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _Pumm-Ra_ (1.6).
> 
> 2\. The _Mumm-Ra Berbil_ (1.47), _Queen of 8 Legs_ (1.34), _Garden of Delights_ (1.9), and Panthro's body was doubled as vehicle for the spirit of Hammerhand in _Spitting Image_ (1.18).
> 
> 3\. _Sixth Sense_ (1.26).
> 
> 4\. _Dimension Doom_ (1.33).
> 
> 5\. _Feliner – Parts 1 & 2_ (1.29 and 1.30).
> 
> 6\. _ThunderCats Ho_ (1.66-70).
> 
> 7\. Defensive, catapult-type weapons built into the upper arms of the Cat's Lair. Used in _Return to Thundera_ (1.20)


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, it doesn't look like Captain Shiner or Officer Mandora will be able to provide us any more information on our new guest," sighed Panthro, turning from the control panel to the collected team working feverishly at their stations around the control room the next midday. "The _Vertus_ was able to reach neutral space, beyond Mandora's jurisdiction, without being stopped or boarded. And none of Mandora's other sources have any information about where he might have found a Thunderian refugee after all these years…"

"We could go after him ourselves?" suggested Bengali.

"He's long gone. He's not likely to just _give_ information to us, even if we did find him; and Mandora obviously suggests against any business transactions with the scofflaw," Panthro shook his head.

"So we're back to what she can remember herself…," sighed Tygra.

"Which seems to terrify her even without useful details," reminded Pumyra.

Wily Kit and her brother strode quickly into the impasse, having just parked their spaceboards. "They're still out there," reported Kat, nodding to the telescreen that showed the still and silent approach to the drawbridge. "As easily scared as the Mutants can be, you'd think they'd be better at hiding; we saw Jackalman as soon as we came over the last rise…"

"And Slithe's nosediver was almost as obvious in the bushes just outside the Bolkin settlement all morning," shrugged Kit.

"Though they may not be very good at it, they have nonetheless stepped up their surveillance since we freed Calica," agreed Lynx-O.

"If I were the jealous type, I'd almost be annoyed they didn't show this much interest in our arrival," growled Bengali, grinning and gesturing to himself, Pumyra and Lynx-O.

"It does seem odd that they and Mumm-Ra are so intent on her in particular," wondered Panthro aloud, rubbing his chin as if to scratch the mental itch he couldn't quite reach.

"It hasn't even been a day since we beat them, and rescued her; of course, they're going to be smarting from that sting," observed Cheetara. "And in just a few weeks, our numbers here on Third Earth have increased by more than half; it's not surprising they're worried into action."

Lion-O nodded, "Whatever their reasons, it's clear they do have their eyes on us, since she arrived. And so, as we discussed, it's best she stay safely at the Lair."

"We can't keep her locked up in here forever," objected Pumyra, concerned about the increasingly over-protective tone in the conversation.

"Just until the Mutants and Mumm-Ra lose a little of their interest," assured their leader.

"And we can learn a little more about her," reminded Panthro.

The affirmation of the previous evening's decision hung among them, as nods all around committed the group to both defend and befriend their new arrival. And so, Lion-O sent them about that business, announcing, "Bengali, Pumyra and I will head to Hook Mountain to assist Snowman, as we'd agreed last week. And Lynx-O will accompany Tygra, Cheetara and the Thunderkittens back to the Berbil village, to survey the irrigation improvements we've been working on. And everyone, keep a sharp ear out for our watchful friends…"

* * *

"I am sorry again I didn't hear you to help last night, Calica," offered the Cat's Lair head of household. "But ole Snarf _was_ tired after the busy day, and your room _is_ on the far side of the Lair," he excused, rather than suggesting that his hearing might not be what it once was. "I'm just glad Lion-O happened to be up and nearby when you needed him."

"And I am sorry to be so much trouble," Calica said sincerely, having also caught the not-quiet-enough sigh her chaperone and teacher had emitted when she stared blankly at his invitation to dry the breakfast dishes they'd just washed. "I wish I could remember more than the nightmares; but even these basic tasks… I am happy to have a found a way to repay your hospitality, but know I am probably making more work for you than helping."

"Oh, it's alright," demurred Snarf, as he handed her a towel with his tail, and demonstrated wiping a plate dry with the cloth he held. "I imagine this must be difficult for you too, with who knows what you've been through these past years. I always appreciate extra hands; together, we'll get through this and today's laundry faster than I usually could by myself.

"In fact," he smiled as he stood up on his tail and inspected her handiwork, "I think you have this down; so I'm going to get the next load of wash started. I'll be right back." Humming to himself at the morning's company and slowly increasing efficiency, he waddled down the hallway and returned shortly with a basket of jumbled clothes in his arms and another in his tail.

"If you will fold these," Snarf demonstrated as she finished up the dishes, "I'll get started on mending these…" With an occasional grunt and groan as Calica folded and sorted, he eventually threaded the needle, and began carefully stitching up a gash in one of the Thunderkitten's tunics. "I've been meaning to get to these since the ThunderCats fought off the Mutants in the Bramblewoods last week. But there's always so much to do—snarf, snarf—what with the daily cooking and the cleaning and the shopping…"

He sighed and looked up to check on her progress, to see she had quickly finished both baskets of clean clothes, and sat looking engrossed at his slow darning. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned her trance might be something more than rapt attention.

"What is that you are doing?" she asked without taking her eyes off the shrinking rip in the fabric.

Thinking he'd done something wrong with his sewing, he looked down to see that he'd correctly made the very basic, everyday repair. He looked back to her, confused by her confusion.

"You're making the hole disappear, using just the little wand!" she exclaimed.

"It's just a sewing… Here," he chuckled at her amazement, and suggested, handing her another tunic, and nudging his box of supplies toward her. "Just find the string color that matches the cloth, tie off one end to get started, make the stitch as small and tight as you can; and I'll show you how to finish when you get there…"

"Like this?" Calica asked with an active interest and excited energy level he'd not seen from her before. And before his eyes, she swiftly wove the needle and thread across the torn textile; her hands moving more gracefully and quickly than visibly, she had restored the cloth to a near-original state in less than a minute.

"By Jaga, I think we've found your gift/talent…," he grinned when she looked up at him for the first time, seeking his approval of her handiwork.

"I don't know," she admitted with a trace of embarrassment. "I just did it. Is that correct?"

"It's wonderful, Calica! Let's see how you do on something else…" He rifled through the pile beside them and handed her the edge of a large, heavy, rug-like material. "Panthro ripped this workshop mat when it got it caught in a gear while he was tinkering with the Feliner." As she selected an appropriately heavier thread and needle from his knitbox, he noticed a fleeting smirk across her face, and observed honestly, "A shame you and he had that awkward introduction…"

Maintaining her focus on the hardier task before her, she admitted, "You have all been so quick to be so kind to me, trying hard to make me feel safe and welcome, despite my not recognizing or remembering anything. Everything seems so new to me; but with all of you, I feel… less lost. Well, with everyone except Panthro. When I am around him, I do not feel the same sense of familiarity and comfort. It's not a bad feeling, just not the same positive sense." She stopped her work, and looked up at Snarf plaintively, "Does that make me bad? Not to like him the same?"

He nodded to both her sewing and her feelings, encouraging her to continue with each. "You and Panthro just startled each other when you first met; give it time. He can seem a bit gruff, but you'll warm up to each other, I just know it. And he likes 'handy', and seeing as how you're very handy with that needle and thread…"

She blushed at his praise and reassurance, trusting that this teacher would steer her correctly on repairing both fabric and relationships. With even greater confidence than before, she tied off the final stitch on the mat, and presented it for his inspection.

Still amazed at her quick and quality skill, Snarf smiled his approval, and gathered up their morning's combined accomplishments. "For now, let's deliver this clean and mended laundry; and then see what other talents you might be hiding." Running down a long list of household chores needing doing, he whistled as he hoped they'd only begun to discover her secret strengths.

* * *

With the other ThunderCats headed out to the day's ally obligations on foot or in the other vehicles, and the Lair's automated systems watching for trouble closer to home, Panthro headed down to the right paw hangar. While the Thundertank had performed beautifully, as always, in the skirmishes of the past few days, his baby wasn't a fan of all the seashore and riverbank wet sand; the damp grit had a remarkable ability to find its way into the deepest mechanics, stick, dry and begin scouring the gears and joints. Last night he'd only begun the process of removing body panels, and cleaning out interior systems; and today, he was also looking forward to a little grease and manual labor as a stress reliever, and as time to think about recent events.

The Mutants had been acting _particularly_ strangely over the past few weeks—failing to score victories as much for their outlandishly foolish attempts, as for the expected incompetence at potentially achievable bad deeds. And then Shiner returns from the dead—or at least from the exploding black hole that NEPTUNE had become,(1) miraculously with yet another Thunderian survivor. And, while every reunion was good news, the remarkable coincidence of Calica's delivery, just weeks after the trio were rescued from Hammerhand…

No, no one of those occurrences really bothered him. And it also wasn't that Calica's first act with the ThunderCats was to scratch him badly while he was trying to rescue her; it had hurt—did hurt—but he understood why she had probably done it. It also wasn't her nightmares, or her reaction to seeing her reflection—both were easily symptoms of the trauma she'd likely been through since she somehow escaped Thundera.

In fact, his discomfort was not a reaction to any single act or event of recent days. Rather, something about the overall situation just didn't sit right with him. The Mutants had been _too_ incompetent; Shiner's timing _too_ remarkable; Calica's reactions… _almost_ just right. Everything was _too_ right to be true; the entire collection of events either caused, or added to, a gut feeling that she was not merely 'the next survivor' of their doomed world…

But if not, then what was she? Her medical scans were fairly normal. What little there was of her story made sense. And, most persuasively, the Sword of Omens had been silent about her, except to stress Mumm-Ra and the Mutants' keen interest in capturing her.

Again, he had nothing solid to be concerned about; only the slight lack of good feeling around her. As he turned into the cavernous hangar, he knew that if he could only put his finger on— There she was! As if conjured by his concerns, she was standing there at one of his workbenches, fiddling with something, her back to him.

"Hey!" he shouted instinctively, shifting instantly from contemplation to intervention.

A samoflange bounced roughly off the hard floor, as she jumped and turned toward him, a mix of surprise, fear and guilt on her face.

He moved quickly to retrieve the part, and position himself between her retreat and his work surface. "What are you doing in here?"

"Snarf sent me down to deliver the rags we washed, and the mat I repaired," she stammered, pointing toward a basket of neatly folded shop goods. "I was just curious about what all this does; I didn't mean any harm. I'm sorry."

Giving the critical part a quick once-over, and seeing no apparent harm done, he softened. Slightly. "This isn't a place to poke around; a lot of this stuff is fragile, and dangerous. If you have questions, ask."

"I will; I'm sorry." Her eyes flitted between him and the ground, as she seemed not to know to do or say next.

Not sure himself, Panthro crossed his arms, suggesting further conversation was not among the options.

Unclear on what was expected or appropriate in this situation, she decided changing situations was her best next step. "Snarf will be expecting me…"

He nodded slightly, in some combination of acknowledgement, agreement and approval.

Without a second glance, she scampered out the interior door; he could hear her steps echo up the stairwell.

Confident she was satisfactorily warned and gone, Panthro spent the next few moments inspecting the parts and tools on the workbench, and the exposed Tank systems. It seemed everything was where it was supposed to be, as it should be. But, as he resumed his repairs, it wasn't long before his thoughts again turned to the question of whether _she_ was what she was supposed to be.

* * *

"Strange," Mumm-Ra grumbled as he stepped back from the darkening cauldron. "I can see her, but not _through_ her. Hmmm, she is more 'Cat than I had intended; and so my influence will need be more indirect than planned as well."

"Meanwhile, those pathetic Plun-darrians are trying too hard; like so much else, subtlety escapes them. The ThunderCats will never have a chance to defend my gift if they know better than to let her out on her own. Better to back off a little, and give space for them to step into the snare..."

He turned back to the cauldron, and sighed, "It is so hard to find good evil help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _Sword in a Hole_ (1.35), an automated spacelane cleaning system destroyed by Panthro, in whose destruction Shiner presumably went down with his ship.


	5. Chapter 5

Taking his turn remaining at the Lair while the others attended to projects and priorities with allies across Third Earth several uneventful days later, Lion-O quickly completed his own morning task list in the control room: daily diagnostics run on all systems, a full scan of the surrounding lands and skies, compiling and transmitting the weekly activity report to the Interplanetary Control Force, a manual review and update of the supply inventories and more. He next called up the day's maintenance checklist, noted the efficiency tests scheduled for the Lair reactor, set the automated surveillance and defense systems to mid-level sensitivity and headed toward the thundrillium power plant buried deep under the metal cat and its cliffside perch.

On the walk down through the various levels, he glanced down a residential corridor, and noticed that the door to his room was standing open. Curious, and not especially eager to watch subroutines report fuel flow rates, purity measures and estimated run-time remaining, he quietly moved down the hallway and peeked in.

The room was as he'd left it, except that his bed had been stripped of sheets, the mattress was slightly ajar, and standing perfectly still to one side was Calica, her arms full of linens and her eyes vacant as she faced out an open window.

He watched her for a moment, not sure what she was doing beyond obviously changing the sheets, and noticed additional nuances in her coloring as she stood in sunlight. She continuing staring out the window, not quite blankly, but certainly no longer paying attention to the laundry in her arms or his arrival in the doorway, as she gave no indication she was aware of either. Just then, a slight breeze blew in the open window, and Calica closed her eyes and seemed to sigh sadly as it ruffled sheet corners and errant hairs as it passed.

Not wanting to disturb her, Lion-O moved to settle against the doorframe, and nearly stumbled over the basket of cleaning supplies that had been holding the door open. The resulting clatter, his gasp and the doors' swishing shut echoed through the otherwise quiet space.

Startled, Calica dropped the armful of linens before exhaling and blushing at her host. "I'm sorry, Lord Lion-O," she stuttered, fumbling to gather the sheets and explain herself. "I'm here just helping Snarf with the cleaning; I didn't mean any harm. I…"

His own embarrassment passed quickly as he realized she seemed more guilty than surprised. "I'm not angry, Calica; you're fine," he smiled, hoping to ease her apparent distress. "I just saw the door ajar, and stopped in…"

"Still, I shouldn't have stopped working; best I don't linger in any of your spaces," she chided herself. She wouldn't look up at him, perhaps unwilling to face him more than focused on gaining control of the ample, ambling spreads.

He picked up a pillowcase that had fluttered toward him, and took up handfuls of a trailing end of the pile she was holding. With the fabric under control, he tried again to calm her, "It's OK; I know Snarf appreciates the help, and we all appreciate how much you've pitched in around the Lair."

She glanced up at him quickly, still unsure whether his reassurance was polite or genuine. Just as immediately, she turned away and exchanged her armful of old, for a stack of clean sheets. "It is the least I can do, Lord Lion-O, for all you and the other ThunderCats have done for me…"

He forced away the grimace that was bubbling up in reaction to her subservient address, "There's no need to call me 'Lord.'" He met her back at the bed, and offered to help, reminding and demonstrating, "I'm no better than, or above, anyone…"

She nodded obediently and explained, as they unfolded, spread and tucked, "Snarf has been quite consistent in telling me about the pressures of your title-"

"And the burden of responsibility _he_ has in preparing me for it; I know," he laughed.

She smiled, sharing Lion-O's amusement at his nursemaid's not-quite-humble devotion. "He has been a good teacher, these past days, as I try to learn my place here."

He smarted again at the servile role she seemed to be describing for herself, and tried asking about her experience instead. "And how do you feel you're settling in?"

"I don't have any point of comparison, really," she acknowledged, before nodding to the nearly made bed. "But I think my housekeeping skills are adequate; I know my way around the Lair; I have a daily routine…"

"Are you happy?" he asked quickly, catching them both a little off guard at the directness and personal depth of the concern. He caught her glance, and felt the need to explain his interest to them both. "You were staring out the window pretty hard when I came in…"

"I was looking up at the Cat's head," she admitted with her own slight blush. When he seemed to want more explanation beyond that description, she confided further with a smile, "I was wondering what the view from there would be like, what wonders I might see until I'm allowed-" she fell quiet, not willing to finish the potential complaint implied in her statement.

"Until you can experience them for yourself?" offered Lion-O, sitting down on the edge of the bed and nodding her to join him.

She swallowed, fearing she had insulted the leader of these people—her people, who had saved her and taken her in. She had criticized this man who had so many other obligations, as Snarf regularly reminded, and yet was taking the time to inquire about how she was feeling. He seemed genuinely curious, interested, concerned even; and he was waiting for her to respond…

Hesitantly, she perched beside him, and answered him honestly, because he asked, and because …he just felt right to share with. "You all go out each day, and come back with stories of peoples, lands, and activities across Third Earth; but a week here, and I know little more than the words and the clothing stains you bring back. I don't mean to be ungrateful," she demurred. "Remembering nothing before being on that spaceship, I guess I'm just curious about the world beyond these walls and drawbridge."

Her look was sad, without being accusing; and an explanation erupted from his mouth before Lion-O could stop it. "We hope you're able to go out and about soon. We just want to be cautious since the Mutants have shown a clear interest in you…"

"I understand," she exaggerated.

"You feel trapped," he realized aloud, and regretted its truth immediately when she didn't deny or argue in response.

She looked at him matter-of-factly, sharing insight rather than implication. "I also understand that you need to keep an eye on me as well, that I have to earn your trust; and I have been trying…" She again nodded to the laundry and cleaning bucket.

"And you are; you have…" Lion-O reassured, uncomfortable with the Cat's Lair being experienced anything like a prison paralleling mercenaries or Mutants. What did it say of the honorable ThunderCats if they liberated one of their own from one captivity, only to enforce another form servitude upon her? And beyond the shame of that irony, he also wanted to see her happy. Those eyes and smile were wasted on frowns and sighs.

For her in particular, and the ThunderCats overall, he knew he had to do something; and so he noted, "The Mutants _have_ seemed more scarce the past few days; perhaps they've lost interest or patience. Maybe we can arrange a little more liberty here in the Lair, and even a field trip—escorted, of course…"

The light in her eyes and size of her smile suggested to Lion-O that he'd made the correct decision. And when she excitedly clasped his nearest hand in both hers, he was sure he had.

* * *

"Still no sign of any Mutants, thank Jaga. Snarf, snarf," whispered the guide as he and Calica made their way into the Wollo village a few days later. Even as he smiled to the villagers along the familiar path to their market, he glanced about nervously.

"And no one saw anything when we went to the Berbil fields yesterday," added Calica, looking about more in wonder than caution. "It seems strange that I'm so afraid of these creatures I've never seen…"

"You're better off for it," he assured her. "They're as pretty as they are friendly. Thankfully, the Wollos aren't interested in having them as visitors either; so we should be fine here while we're shopping. Do you have the list?" he brightened with the change of subject. "I have to remember to get all the ingredients for Willa's special ThunderCake!"

"Yes," she smiled, pulling the long, scribbled list from a fold in her altered, if hand-me-down tunic. "And remember, you promised to show me what each of these ingredients is. There is so much to see here!"

And so, for nearly an hour, Snarf and Calica worked their way through the list and the various stalls and carts in the busy square. He showed her the difference between cawberries, brocksenberries and wonderberries,(1) and how to select the freshest Wolloaves of crunchy bread. He explained how these ingredients would combine with the various Berbil fruits they'd gathered, to make the fluffy base and creamy frosting of his planned culinary masterpiece for the leader of the Warrior Maidens.

As he wrapped up a reflection on the health benefits of differing types of Third Earth honey, Snarf realized that Calica, and her armfuls of bundles, were no longer beside him. Panicking, he nearly dropped the two jars he was comparing, and launched himself to full tail-height as he scanned the crowd for his multi-colored care.

"Calica!" he shouted, scampering in several directions as visions of a harmed guest and an unhappy Council flashed through his mind. But the market was so crowded and noisy, he could catch no sight, sound or smell of her.

Finally, above the shorter hats and heads of the Wollos, he spotted the mane and shoulders he sought. Bolting to that corner of the square, he found Calica staring at an old Wollo woman as she deftly worked a simple loom.

With a relieved sigh and post-run deep breath, Snarf skidded to a stop beside her, and looked over her still form for signs of distress. "Calica, are you alright?"

The only indication that Calica was awake was the movement of her eyes as she followed the shuttle and string back and forth. Without looking away, she asked him breathlessly, "Can you do that? Can you teach me?"

"I'm better at knitting and mending. And with everything there is to do for the ThunderCats, snarf, snarf, I really wouldn't have time to make cloth from scratch." He took her elbow, and tried to guide her back toward the spice vendor that was to be their last stop that afternoon; but she didn't budge from her absorbed observation.

The weaver had taken notice of her audience, paused her work, and came over to them. "Good day, friends. Can I interest you in some fabric or finished goods? I've just completed several blankets, if you're looking ahead to the cooler weather…" She pointed to a selection of simple and ornate pieces hanging on the wall of her home-workshop, and others folded neatly on the benches beside the loom.

Ignoring the sales pitch, Calica continued to gaze at the unfinished piece hanging among the many-colored threads at the workstation. "It's beautiful."

Following her eye, flattered for the interest and hoping the indulgence might encourage a trade, the weaver invited, "Would you like to try, my dear?"

"Could I?" she brightened, looking from the nodding woman to the scowling Snarf. "Please, Snarf? Only for a moment…"

Melting under the imploring green eyes and excited features, Snarf dropped his hands from his hips, and conceded the opportunity. "Ok, but not too long. We have to get home and get the cooking started for tomorrow's party…" He took the previous purchases from her arms, and watched as the weaver talked the quick and grinning learner through the basics, and then the finer points of creating cloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Cawberries are the favorite food of Trollogs ( _Berbils_ , 1.3); misidentifying brocksenberries nearly kills the Thunderkittens ( _Runaways_ , 2.88); and Snarf makes wonderberry muffins on New Thundera ( _The Formula_ , 3.103).


	6. Chapter 6

"Come on, Snarf! Any longer, and we'll be late no matter how fast I drive," shouted Panthro from the driver's seat of the Thundertank.

At the top of the stairs, the summoned snarf finally appeared with an armful of brimming jars and pans, and a tailed wrapped tightly around a basketful of undoubtedly even more tasty goods. "We're coming! We didn't want to forget anything for Willa's special day."

Behind him as he descended, a two-legged cake exited the Cat's Lair with careful steps, and hesitated at the edge of the incline. "A little help, please?" it asked.

"Snarf!" chided Tygra as he and Bengali beat the others in leaping to assist.

"She insisted on helping with everything, Thundercake included," the baker explained, as he hoisted the basket up for Lion-O to take into the passenger compartment.

Grabbing the handle, Lion-O looked up when he heard Pumyra and Cheetara gasp as the striped cousins took the giant pastry and started it down the stairs. As the frosted tiers descended towards him, behind them appeared a freshly dressed Calica. She had traded her borrowed outfit for a self-made, form-fitting tunic, whose simple pattern and varied colors complemented her own mosaic; and she had pulled her hair back into an over-the-shoulder ponytail that served to streamline and connect her coif and couture.

"Calica, it's beautiful!" exclaimed Pumyra, on behalf of almost all eyes that followed her down the stairs. She alone had known a new look was in the works, but had consulted only on the evening's hairstyle, as Calica had wanted the dress to be a surprise for everyone.

"Did you weave the fabric yourself?" asked WilyKit, not recognizing it from among those they'd considered her first night among them. Snarf had mentioned how taken she'd been with the Wollo weaver's work; but that had only been the day before. And hadn't Calica spent the day in the kitchen with Snarf?

"No," explained their student of textiles, both pleased with and a little embarrassed by the admiring attention, as she approached the Tank and handed up a few remaining parcels. "I hope we might be able to get a loom at the Lair; but I just whipped this up from some cloth from the market…"

"Well it's beautiful," summarized Cheetara, as Lion-O was faster to offer his hand to assist Calica's climb into their ride.

"Fashionable or not, we need to be quick if we're going to make the party on time…," reminded their driver.

As Panthro started up the engine with a time-to-make-up rev, Cheetara and Pumyra noticed how Lion-O and Calica's hands, and eyes, lingered a little longer than needed as he helped her into the Tank.

If the commute alone was any indication, today's celebration would be special indeed.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Willa!" the assembled crowd shouted from the many platforms stacked and scattered across the tops of several large trees. Cheers rang from all around as the queen of the Warrior Maidens waved to the well-wishers, took a deep breath and blew out all the candles on her glowing gift from the ThunderCats.

As the large-group toasts and speeches gave way to music, scattered feasting and smaller conversations, the ThunderCats took their turns giving good wishes to their hostess, before spreading out among the friends and allies who had not gathered in such numbers, or for such a happy reason, for many seasons.

Ever the leader, Lion-O made a point to speak with his counterparts from the various peoples of Third Earth who'd gathered for the celebration, and whose entourages filled flets, bridges and even larger tree limbs in every direction. Ever the architect, Tygra marveled at how the seemingly disparate shelves so easily created a communal space. Ever the engineer, Panthro wondered whether, but trusted that, the entirely wooden construction would hold the happy masses. Ever the explorer, Cheetara focused her attentions on the people themselves, inquiring after their travel, clothing, gift and food customs. Ever the confection connoisseurs, the Wily twins made a point of sampling all the festive fare from across the planet. Ever the organizer, Snarf worried that there would not be enough food for all the revelers. Still newcomers to Third Earth, Bengali, Pumyra and Lynx-o marveled at the number, diversity and hospitalities of their new neighbors.

And still a newcomer to everything, even her own people, Calica stood with her back to a tree trunk and soaked it all in.

"Cake?" interrupted her observation, as a large slice of her and Snarf's handiwork floated dangerously close to her face. Startled, she turned her head quickly toward the source, and managed to get a noseful of sweet icing in the process.

"I'm sorry," offered Lion-O, quickly setting the cake aside and fumbling to hand her a cloth or help clean off the dessert. "You've been standing in this same spot for the better part of an hour, staring at everyone. I thought some company and cake-"

Taking the napkin from him, she excused the mess even as she worked to wipe it away. "I should have been paying more attention to my surrounding—or maybe less." Her excitement flared, as she explained her absorption, "It's just that there is so much to see and hear and smell here!"

"You have seemed a little, dare I say 'overwhelmed'?," Lion-O observed, carefully offering her the unscathed piece of cake.

"I'm the one who was hungry to get out and see this world," Calica reminded, as she ate a bite of the cake he was trying so hard to provide. Smiling in thanks and enjoyment, her eyes suddenly narrowed as she asked, "How do you know how long I've been standing here?" She glanced around, realizing that, given all the people he'd spoken to and all the different platforms he'd been on, he would have had to intentionally find a way to look her way. He had put in a considerable effort to keep an eye on her as he worked the crowd; he'd _wanted_ to watch her.

She saw him match her guilty smile, as she realized that to deduce his labors, she also had been keeping an eye on him amidst the celebrating throngs. And her question, silence and smile had told him so.

Flushed by the apparently mutual success, she admitted, "I'm flattered that you'd spare me that attention, and this," she held up the nibbled cake, "when you have so much else to do tonight. I understand that this is not just a social occasion for the Lord of the ThunderCats."

"This is one of the more enjoyable parts of the job," he confided, not making clear on whether he meant the overall party or this specific interaction. "And all of it is getting easier with time." He looked out through and beyond the Treetop Queendom, "Hard to believe it's only been a year since I woke up here, to the reality that Thundera was gone and I was in charge of our future."

"If I'm finding party-going overwhelming among friendly faces, I don't know the word for what you must be experiencing: going from a child in a spaceship to a man leading his people in fighting enemies, making new alliances and creating a new life on a new planet. I don't envy you that responsibility."

Lion-O stopped in mid-chew of his slice and looked up at her with an unfamiliar look on his face, almost like he was shocked that she would think of comparing the two of them, or of implying that he was acting as awkwardly as she could.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to suggest…"

"No; you didn't," he smiled.

But she persisted, afraid she had insulted him, or broken some other taboo new to her. "I know I don't have anything to compare it against, but just the gathering of so many united peoples here to tonight shows that you're doing well. And you move through this important company with such confidence, but still think to check on how I'm doing, as unimportant as I am in this celebration." She nodded to her cake, her face expressing the larger gratitude she felt for his kind concern.

His grin was overtaken by a blush that rivaled his mane, as he demurred and deflected. "I only wish I always felt as confident as you say I look tonight. If I've been successful it's because I have good teachers and friends, who offer wise advice and forgive my mistakes. I hope that, in a just a week with us, you've also seen that it's our relationships that get us through, and make us shine?" Looking back up at her, he mirrored her heartfelt appreciation. "Still, I appreciate your noticing my attempts, and saying so…"

The mutual adult admiration hung between them for a silent moment.

Less maturely, she bit her lip lightly, not knowing what to say or do next, and looked back down to see she'd finished her cake while he'd barely touched his.

He broke into a wide grin, as her turn revealed that "You still have a little-" He pointed toward and then haltingly thumbed a smudge of frosting off her cheek.

The offending icing vanquished, and now finding himself unsure of a next act, Lion-O simply met her gaze—expectant, but not sure for what. A second, a minute, a year seemed to pass.

"Why so serious, you two?" sang Nayda, swinging suddenly onto the scene from across the clearing. "This is supposed to be a celebration, and I find you both standing unsociably in a corner. Come on, Lion-O," she insisted, grabbing his hand and pulling him away, "Come and dance."

Not wanting to leave the conversation, but not sure how to refuse their host's invitation, Lion-O looked back at Calica with an apologetic shrug.

Nayda smiled sweetly at the new ThunderCat, before leading the half-hearted leader across the swaying bridge toward the swaying crowd on the next platform.

Watching him go, Calica sighed and grabbed his abandoned piece and pushed another forkful into her mouth.

Suddenly beside her, Pumyra asked with no small indignation, "Did he even ask you to dance? No? Well, just because he's Lord of the ThunderCats doesn't make him socially suave." Taking the plate from Calica, she insisted, "Come on; let's get out there and show them how it's done."

"I don't know how," Calica protested, gaping at the ritual in honest lack of understanding.

"Don't be silly," laughed Pumyra, taking both her hands and pulling her to her feet. "You're a cat! Just find the rhythm and move; the grace will come naturally…"

The pair moved to the edge of the dance floor; and Pumyra modeled some simple steps, encouraging her wide-eyed protégé to simply let the music guide her. Haltingly at first, Calica mimicked the movements of those around her, gradually aligning the swing of her arms, hips and feet to the rise and fall of the percussion. She slowly melted from stiff imitation, to smooth anticipation, and eventually to fluid innovation, as she relaxed into the company and activity.

As Nayda watched him, and with Pumyra watching them all, Lion-O snuck occasional glances in Calica's direction as individual songs blended into one long musical stream. She seemed focused on the experience itself, eyes closed and large smile on her face. The pounding, whistles, plucks and even chants and shouts slowly grew in intensity, and more partygoers joined in, so that soon the entire network of walkways was alive with movement.

Jarringly off-beat, a series of loud screeches and booms echoed through the treetops, as one thatched roof and then another burst into flames. A few optimistically impressed and confused "oohs!" from the crowd quickly turned to screams as several Mutant vehicles swooped past. The only laughter remaining were assorted cackles from their mischievous drivers.

"There she is!" shouted Jackalman, gesturing wildly to the platform on which the dancers had begun to scatter around Calica and Pumyra.

Without such explicit direction, several more volleys of weapons fire rained down on the plank and rope walkways connecting the many platforms, as the Mutants pressed their advantages of surprise, dark skies, well-lit targets and superior mobility. Bookending the attack, Vultureman's Flying Machine circled above the treetops starting and fanning flames with each pass, while Slithe's nosediver shook the village with each barrage into the massive tree trunks below. Between them, Monkian and Jackalman swarmed through the village, skycutter throttles and cannon wide open.

Most of their targets panicked, as escape options were limited given the finite network of flammable paths, and their considerable distance from the ground. The Warrior Maidens focused on leading their guests to cover, or in valiant efforts to extinguish the quick-spreading flames that threatened to devour the settlement. The few arrows they did manage to fire missed the fast-moving flying machines or bounced uselessly off their metal armor.

Torn between assisting that effort and fighting off the attack, the largely scattered ThunderCats quickly turned from dance to defense, and attempted to locate one another across the far-flung frenzy.

"They're trying to keep us separated!" Cheetara shouted at Tygra and Lynxo above the din of flames, engines and shouts, as she vaulted down onto the otherwise unoccupied bridge towards which they were attempting to distract the attackers.

"They seem to be focusing on that platform over there!" Wily Kit pointed out to Kat, Panthro and Bengali from the largest platform, as Willa organized the guests closest to her into a water bucket brigade.

Pinned where they were, they could only watch as, with one walkway destroyed and the only other ablaze from previous blasts, Nayda, Lion-O and Pumyra worked to keep Calica and other trapped guests on the move, shifting around the large tree, attempting to keep its trunk between them and the diving Mutants.

"Persistent, aren't they?" noted Nayda, as a group of smaller beings huddled behind her. "They seem to have a particular interest is us… Or in her," she realized, looking at Calica.

Before anyone could react to the loaded suggestion, a circling skycutter turned back and barreled down toward them. Splitting into two groups, the targets fled around the tree in opposite directions, as a blast impacted at the spot in which they'd just been.

Jackalman swooped and fired at one escaping group from the opposite direction, stopping them in their tracks as Monkian closed in from behind. The simian Mutant seemed on a collision course; but just as he was level with scattering crowd, he tipped the Skycutter nearly onto its side, and then quickly righted and dove out into the open air. Where he had passed, the various 'Cat and Maiden defenders instantly noticed an empty space where Calica had just been.

"Lion-O!" screamed Pumyra and Nayda simultaneously as, almost immediately, a flash of metal, red and light blue leapt over the platform edge where the flying machine had gone, and disappeared.

Having reacted without thinking, the last things Lion-O saw as he cleared the platform was a kicking and hissing Calica sink her teeth into Monkian's arm as they flew away. Then, a fast-approaching and very large tree branch he had not originally noticed.


	7. Chapter 7

"Calica!" Lion-O snapped to alertness, and tried to sit up from where he lay prone and in pain. A wave of soreness passed through his body, and he instinctively reached for the cloth covering one side of his face.

A firm but gentle hand blocked him from moving further, and in fact urged him to lie down again. "She got away from the Mutants as we drove them off. You're back at the Lair; and she's resting in her room," assured the soothing voice of Lynxo. "The whole experience was quite a shock, to her especially; but you were the only significant injury…"

As his eyes came into focus on his compatriot's unseeing pair, Lion-O could tell that he was in his room, that dim daylight was coming in through the drawn windows, and that the prickling sensations across his body were obvious scratches and bruises. "How long have I been…?" he tried to compute, on the path to determining what he had missed.

"You've slept all day; it's nearly sunset."

"What?! I should go and…," Lion-O decided aloud, again attempting to get out of bed.

"No," insisted his elder, with a unchanging tone and touch. "Willa and her people understand that you are elsewhere for good reason. And, after bringing us back here late last night, the rest of the ThunderCats returned with supplies and our airborne vehicles to assist with repairs. I understand that, with the help of all our gathered friends, they have made remarkable progress in just this one day."

Slightly relieved at that good news, even if regretful that he had not been able to contribute, Lion-O relaxed slightly.

"I expect they'll be returning tonight, to resupply if not rest," the report continued.

"What exactly happened?" asked the calmer, if still concerned, Lord of the ThunderCats, as he took visual stock of his own collected bumps and bruises.

Lynxo deftly poured and handed him a glass of water, and explained, "It was quickly apparent that the Mutants were after Calica specifically. The bulk of their attack on the crowded party was a diversion for Monkian's kidnapping her."

"And he got her!" remembered the younger man, flush with the emotions of that recovered moment.

"Not for long," chuckled the storyteller. "As you dove after her, courageously, if rashly, she managed to scratch and bite her way free of him. She has a few scrapes of her own; but unlike a certain gallant leader, she jumped onto, and not _into_ , the tree."

"She is well, then?" sheepishly asked Lion-O, knowing his irresistible urge to rescue her could have been better thought through.

"She is safe, but shaken. As are all the party-goers," Lynxo reframed their relief to the larger set of targets. "The Mutants fled rather quickly when they couldn't keep Calica; and we were finally able to put up a consistent defense: Panthro managed to get down to the Thundertank, and give the nosediver some competition, while the rest of us did what we could with the others. The last we saw and heard of them, was Monkian shrieking about being unable to move his arm, as they all retreated."

"And our friends, and the Warrior Maidens' village?" the Thunderian leader asked with a remembered scope of concern.

"It did take a considerable amount of damage, never mind Willa's ruined party. But thankfully, yours seems to the worst of it, injury-wise."

"I too am grateful for that good fortune, and for your good care. But I should check on our friends."

He made again to stand, and again his caretaker laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Rest, Lion-O. While pleased the tree trunk that broke your fall broke nothing else, the impact and your fall through many feet of branches have given you a concussion and several bruised ribs. You need to give yourself time to recuperate."

"I'm well-tended, but needed, Lynxo," he persisted, beginning to grow annoyed at being restricted to the restbed while others were working, without confirming for himself that she—they were well.

"I am sorry, Lion-O, but it was not a suggestion," insisted Lynxo, still not moving from his bedside chair. "Healer's orders."

His complete confidence caused Lion-O to wonder how the older cat intended to keep him from trying. He was a formidable fighter, to be sure; but he couldn't expect to hold even a bandaged ThunderCat Lord at bay from his comfortable seat. If he intended to impede the larger, stronger youth, he would have to… _The water!_

The realization overwhelmed him as did a sudden drowsiness; and though he fought against it, Lion-O felt himself sliding back down onto the bed and Lynxo pulling up the sheets as he slid back. The chuckle he heard last was more parental than proud, and then was gone.

* * *

"I'll take his room if he doesn't survive," sneered Jackalman, as he and Slithe entered the meeting chamber. They brushed past the servant slug exiting with a bowlful of rags, and found Vultureman rolling his eyes at the still-whimpering ape across the table from him.

"You say your entire arm went numb as soon as she bit you?" asked the Mutant leader without inquiry about his soldier's health or other pleasantries.

"Almost!" Monkian cringed at the memory, as if his attacker was about to strike again. "It got hot; and the burning spread til I couldn't move my arm at all. It was all I could do to control the skydiver; she slipped away as the ThunderCats rallied."

"So, the creature's bite is poisonous?" deduced the canine.

"Perhaps that's Mumm-Ra's plan?" pondered Vultureman, happy to turn the topic away from the injured mutt himself. "To infiltrate the Lair with a venomous collaged cat?"

"Oh yes," mocked Slithe. "Then he'd only need to lather them all magically with her favorite food in hopes she could nibble them all to death before they realized it was happening. A thousand years of evil-doing; and that's the best he could come up with?"

"You laugh," scoffed their scientist. "But, he's tried stranger stretches at success… Besides, we've only seen her bite's impact on the superior Plundarrian physiology of a Mutant; we have no idea what effect she has on cats. Monkian was temporarily paralyzed in one limb; she could be fatal to felines!"

"She scratched Panthro pretty well more than a week ago; and he seemed fighting fit as ever last night," observed Jackalman as he massaged a bruise that one of the panther's well-placed shots had given him.

"Not that we can tell, yet; or perhaps her claws aren't toxic…" pressed Vultureman, with growing animation. "The point is, her bite did poison Monkian quickly if briefly; and Mumm-Ra wouldn't have gone through the trouble of making and planting her at Cat's Lair just to 'nice' them into submission. Whatever her full powers, and whatever his plan for her, it would serve us well not to simply serve him."

He sighed at the blank stares facing him around the table.

"She's a weapon! One that could serve _us_ , if she were under our control!"

A wave of excitement passed through the six eyes before him, before one pair dropped with a heavy reminder: "But we haven't been able to catch her yet, for anyone."

* * *

"Lion-O is still sleeping; and Calica wouldn't join us," announced Cheetara, as she and Tygra carried in trays laden with filling food for the late meal.

"Is she blaming herself for the attack, and for Lion-O's injury?" worried Bengali aloud.

 _She well could_ , Panthro considered at a much lower volume, as he entered from his own shower and change of clothes. "The Mutants do still seem fixed on getting their hands on her…"

"She's done nothing to attract the Mutants except arrive here; and Lion-O leapt of his own accord," Pumyra reminded, naming the disapproval her smirk suggested about the aspersions being cast. "He'll be sore for a few days, but will be fine. And the Mutants are probably going after Calica because she's newest to Third Earth and not yet a ThunderCat; they probably see her as an easier target than the rest of us."

Reflection and fatigue settled around the table as the collected Cats helped themselves to the first moments of quiet, rest and refreshment after nearly two solid days of hard work repairing, rebuilding and cleaning the badly damaged Treetop Queendom.

Softening his implied judgment of their newest member, Panthro remarked, "I _am_ impressed at how well the Warrior Maidens' village stood up to the pounding the Mutants gave it. For little more than lumber and rope, it held together well, even against fire."

"It's hardy materials, to be sure," agree Tygra, as the bowls circled the table from where the dinner service began. "But the design and construction were also second to none."

"I just hope Nayda calms down," hoped WilyKit, speaking bluntly of the Maidens' second-in-command. "Willa was concerned, but her sister was downright mean about it a couple of times."

"Their home was attacked without provocation; her party for her sister was interrupted; and Monkian focused his attack near her. Not being queen, she's freer to vent about her experience than Willa is," suggested Cheetara. "I think we're all upset at what happened, which is why so many guests stayed to help recover."

"Speaking of recovery, look who's up," happily called Snarf, as he escorted a slightly stiff Lion-O into the chamber.

"You didn't wake him up, did you?" tutted Panthro.

"Of course not, snarf, snarf. After I got your dinners warmed, I took some juice and toast to his room, for when he woke up. And he came to while I was there…"

"I insisted on seeing how everyone was doing," explained their leader, as he took his seat with a barely visible grimace.

"I told you he wouldn't take my word for it," chuckled Lynxo to the ThunderKittens on either side of him.

Tired themselves, and not wanting to tax their obviously if not openly injured Lord, the pride quickly caught him up on details of their fighting off the Mutants, tending the injured and rallying the gathered Third Earthers to undo most of the party's aftermath. For someone just awake after nearly two days out of commission, Lion-O followed the tale well, asking after several allies and about various details in the relief work.

Hearing his neighbors' decreasing chews and increasing yawns, Lynxo finally stood, and placed a hand on their small, weary shoulders. "With thanks for fixes, friends and food, I know three 'Cats who could also benefit from some simple sleep."

"I don't wanna go to bed yet," mumbled Kat.

"We don't want to miss any of the story," agreed Kit.

Gathering up a stack of plates, Bengali suggested, "Little else to tell, you know. At least until we see what's left to do in tomorrow's sunlight…"

As the others pushed back from the table, stood and mentioned their own desires for success and shuteye, Lion-O half-stood and raised his hand to hold their attention for just a moment longer. "I'm sorry again I couldn't contribute to the hard work of the past few days; but know the Maidens and our other friends appreciate the tireless efforts you all gave. Thank you."

Everyone politely smiled their understanding, appreciation and "of course"'s, as they continued to wrap up the long day and brief gathering.

"Panthro? Tygra? Could I have a word please?" asked Lion-O, before anyone could bring up a new subject or get away.

The two nobles nodded to him, and retook their seats. Exchanging curious glances, the other adults collected the remainder of the dishware, and herded the smaller members of the family to bed via the kitchen sinks.

When the doors shut behind the last of those excused, Lion-O shifted in his seat, cleared his throat softly, took as deep a breath as he could and spoke to each of his colleagues in turn. "Tygra, though I am Lord of the ThunderCats, Jaga named you head of the ThunderCat Council(1), and I need to speak with you tonight in that capacity."

Tygra's expression gave no indication what thoughts that introduction invoked, as Lion-O turned across the table.

"Panthro, you are the eldest of my original guardians, and have been skeptical of Calica's arrival almost from the beginning. I need to draw on your long experience, and honest insights…"

The engineer laced his fingers together on the table between them, but otherwise gave no hint at his feelings to the serious, even unprecedented counsel he sought.

Their ward and ruler took another breath as he lay his hands and his concerns on the table before them. "I fear my leadership has been compromised; and I wonder whether I should relinquish my role as Lord of the ThunderCats."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. _Pumm-Ra_ (1.6).


	8. Chapter 8

"I do not think I can be the leader our people need," Lion-O repeated in almost a whisper.

Only with that entirely unexpected conclusion did both Panthro and Tygra allow their shock to show.

But before they could question or protest, Lion-O waved them silent with his hand, and explained further. "I jumped after Calica, injuring myself and, worse, leaving you all to fight off the Mutants and support the Maidens' reconstruction—It's clear my priorities have become confused."

He remembered, "And it's not just that one instance: From the moment she arrived, and despite all my other responsibilities, I think of little but her. Awake or dreaming, I am haunted by her eyes; and whatever else I should be doing, I find myself inventing reasons to be with her or see her. She could ask me for anything, and just to see her happy, I'd likely agree…"

"At first, it seemed harmless enough," his expression turned from bashful grin to pained grimace. "But then, when I saw her disappear over that platform in Monkian's grasp, I didn't think, I just jumped—no consideration for my safety, for what else was going on. My only thought was getting her back, a fear that she was lost to us, to me. It was a fear I've never felt, almost a—a jealousy. And even tonight, my first thought when I came to, was for her."

Lion-O swallowed and finalized his confession. "I must admit that am clearly too distracted to serve us well; and we are all at risk because of my susceptibility. Perhaps your caution about her has been too understated, Panthro. Whether she's a sorceress exerting this control over me, or something else entirely, I need you to be fully honest about your hesitations; and Tygra, I think perhaps it best you assume leadership until I can overcome this. Whatever the cause and cure, I am no longer fit to serve as Lord of the ThunderCats."

The young man before them had deflated as he spoke, disappointed in himself and even more so in letting them down. He looked up at his friends and mentors, hoping for the generosity and support he knew they could give in his time of need. He took a slight breath and braced himself upon seeing that their faces had changed from concerned to expressionless again.

Tygra smiled politely and made to speak, but Panthro pounded the table before he could, causing them all to jump slightly. "I _knew_ she was going to trouble from the first time she laid claws on me; but I never thought it would be this bad."

The tiger looked at his colleague with more than a little surprise, adding to Lion-O's growing fear that he had in fact fallen short in his leadership, in being a ThunderCat.

But Panthro's growl quickly turned into a deep and genuine laugh, "So it's finally happened; our little Lion-O's fallen in love."

Tygra joined him in a broad smile, and turned back to their confused, red-haired and -faced leader.

Relieved by their light-hearted response, but still concerned by his own underlying confliction, Lion-O smiled uncomfortably and pushed them. "But I feel so… excited, and yet out-of-control at the same time. How can I lead us, if I can't maintain focus?"

Still chuckling, Panthro nodded to the calmer Tygra to share his assurances.

"Being in love is not a bad thing, Lion-O," the tiger shared warmly, knowing the youth needed more than non-judgment from his confidants. "It can be powerful and empowering. Your feelings for her are something you will need to be mindful of; and there are other considerations that you must also bear in mind, especially as our leader. But neither your title nor your duties mean you cannot enjoy the ups and downs of love." _If anything,_ he thought to himself, _this will help you grow as a leader; and we will need an heir as we rebuild our society._

"So, this is normal?" the infatuee still doubted.

"It's probably overdue," assured Panthro, thinking of how key such attraction would be for their culture's longevity, how absent it had been for them all since those final days on Thundera. He too qualified his approval, as Lion-O's featured brightened, "As with all feelings, it's how you act on them that matters."

"How _should_ I act on the feeling?" He didn't need to admit that he'd never felt this before, that he had no experience and little role modeling on this novel and overwhelming circumstance.

Panthro pushed back from the table, exhaled emphatically and tossed that awkward ball again to Tygra.

"There's no formula, Lion-O…" he hedged, with a brief look of 'thanks' at his blue colleague. "But you could trying to talk with her about this; let her know how you feel."

"But what do I say?" their lovestruck schoolboy sighed, before a look of panic came over him. "What if she doesn't love me?"

"You'll have to be honest, without putting pressure on her. Beyond any attraction to you, she's going through a lot now—captivity, the battles, memory loss, learning our ways..."

"And," Panthro added gently, playing his requested role of caution, "As wonderful as your feelings are, there _is_ the chance that she either doesn't share them, or isn't ready to admit or act on them."

Tygra shot him a look of concern; but Panthro shook his head back with the message, _He needs to know;_ we _need him not to be caught unprepared, not to be devastated._ "If that's the case, it's not a judgment on you or your feelings; it's simply how things are for her. It can be disappointing—devastating even…" Panthro seemed to drift away as he spoke, clear he was speaking from more than hypothetical.

Tygra cleared his throat softly; and Panthro quietly resumed his advice dispensing as if there'd been no interruption. "But if you really do care, you'll respect her reaction whatever it is, however painful that might be for you." He looked down, and ceded the floor back to them.

"There are lots of ways this could go, Lion-O," summarized Tygra, picking at and pulling together the threads of insight scattered on the Council table. "But, even in these personal affairs, the Code of Thundera is a good, strong guide: Truth, Justice, Honor, Loyalty. Offer her that, and expect the same in return, whatever that means for your affections."

Lion-O smiled at the connection of those core values, even to this new situation; still worried at what Calica's reaction could be, the constancy of the Code was comforting.

"And if it helps," Tygra offered a last, encouraging nugget, "There has been a little talk, by some among us, about signs of an apparent mutual interest…"

"Really?" Lion-O lit up, standing excitedly as a grin spread across his face—doubts evaporating.

"Perhaps," emphasized Tygra, as their Lord rocked on his booted feet, before dashing for the door. "Lion-O!" he called after him.

The young 'Cat paused in the doorway and turned back. "Realistically optimistic, my friends," he nodded his thanks. "But still optimistic!" And was gone.

Panthro again chuckled, and shook his head—unable not to be moved by the infectious infatuation.

"Is this really wise?" Tygra worried aloud to his friend, taking up the cautionary role. "We still know so little about her; and she doesn't remember anything before arriving here—she might already have someone, in the past or out there now. Or worse yet, she won't love him back, and we'll have a _heartbroken_ teenaged Lord of the ThunderCats on our paws."

"That there may be unpleasant consequences for his affection, doesn't change that he feels it," reminded Panthro, standing and gathering the last of the dishes from around the table. "However risky or inconvenient, this _is_ another important lesson in life, if not leadership, that Lion-O needs to begin."

"Critical thinking we can teach him. Skills to defend himself and others, we can practice with him. But how do we help him with 'love'?"

"We remind him to be honest and patient, and give him the space to find himself in this new realm of maturity and relationships. Just like we each had to, back on Thundera."

"I guess you're right," Tygra sighed with a mix of resignation and nostalgia. "And just because none of us has a special someone here…"

"Chin up, old friend," laughed Panthro. "Calica is another reminder that there may be many of our people 'out there' to find; and Lion-O's crush, that there's hope for Thunderian love yet!"

* * *

Feeling the need to be at his bruised best, Lion-O first went back to his room and cleaned himself up as best he could with visible scratches all over and bandages around his aching ribs. Remembering scenes from old holo-movies back on Thundera, he grabbed the fresh flowers that Snarf had brought with his snack, and made his way to the guest room that was now hers. With a final run of fingers through his hair, he knocked on her door, called her name hoarsely, then more confidently, "Calica?," and swallowed nervously.

When there was no answer, he repeated the sequence.

Not getting any response, and hearing nothing at all from inside, he knocked and tried the door, which opened immediately. The room was dark, except a dim lamp beside the disheveled bed and an untouched tray of fruit and bread. The mirror was covered by a ripped length of fabric. One window stood open.

He called out her name again, and activated the overhead lights; but even a well-lit search provided no evidence of the room's expected occupant.

The meal tray indicated she'd been present not too long ago, else Snarf would have sounded an alarm before the rest of the ThunderCats had gathered for their dinner. And with everyone back at the Lair for the evening, he knew the extension bridge had been retracted before they ate. So, her possible time and distance away from the room were limited.

Flowers still in hand, Lion-O headed to the areas she knew best: the kitchen and laundry rooms in the lower levels. Not finding her there, he gradually wound his way up through the Lair, in hopes of finding her moving or at work between spaces. With a few areas still off-limits to her, he followed the corridors with doors that she could access, checking these rooms as he moved along. Beginning to worry when could not find her anywhere, he thought back to the state of her room—dark, window open—and remembered her comment the first time he caught her in his room, when she admitted to feeling trapped, to dreaming out the open window, to wondering about the view from- _She shouldn't be able to get there, but…_

In little time, he arrived at the archway onto the Cat's Mouth, the observation terrace from which he also liked to take in the views of the world he now called home and had sworn to protect. Stepping into the open-air and moonlit space, he saw her slumped against one of the large fang railings, as a slight evening breeze whistled woefully through the courtyard below.

"Calica?" he called, in both relief and concern.

"Lion-O, you're well!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet, but catching herself before leaping closer to him to confirm he was actually standing before her.

"I'm fine, and will be better soon," he assured, hoping the shirt covered his bandages and the shadows, his many bruises.

They stood silently facing one another for a moment.

She clutched her hands nervously, again embarrassed at and guilty for having caused him trouble and injury. She noticed the plants he was carrying, and sought the comfort of a chore. "Did you need me to do something with those?"

"No," he seemed confused, before brightening. "Actually, they're a gift, for you." He held them out; and hesitantly she stepped forward to accept them, still not sure what the intention was. "I came to see you; but you weren't in your room…" Realizing he still couldn't explain her journey, he asked as she inspected the bouquet, "How _did_ you get up here? There are several restricted areas between here and the public corridors…"

"I climbed," she shared nonchalantly, as if she'd described his own casual traverse of the ramps and stairs to the same height.

He glanced down at the sweeping curves, slick surfaces and long distance to where her bedroom window still sat open.

His disbelief must have been apparent, as she assured him casually, "The winds were a little tricky, but it just took a little determination. Did you want me to cook or re-plant the flowers?"

He smiled, amused anew at her wonder at only the little things. "Do with them? No; they're just meant to be something lovely to look at."

"A gift?" she smiled, pleased, before turning concerned and holding them back out to him. "But I don't deserve a gift, not after all the harm that's followed my arrival."

Lion-O took a step closer, guiding the bouquet back toward her. "The Mutants and Mumm-ra were causing problems long before you joined us. Actually," he blushed a little, "I was looking for you, so I could talk to you about a good that you've brought to us…"

"But I feel that I should apologize," she insisted. "Just look at the injuries you've suffered on my account," she nodded toward his not-entirely-hidden new fashion accessories.

"Calica, I told you…"

"Well if not apologize, then at least I should be the one giving gifts, saying thank you for everything you've all done for me, for all you've risked and sacrificed." She turned back to the railing, growing somber as she seemed to remember her growing debt to her new friends, and her discomfort with the turned-around token of their appreciation to her.

While he'd considered that she might be a little down after recent events, Lion-O had not expected this degree of sadness. Confused, concerned, and perhaps hoping all the more to share and hear some good news, he joined her at the metal overlook. "Cali, I have something I need to talk with you about, something I hope will help you feel better. I have something to confess…"

She smiled politely to him, somehow even more embarrassed at and uncomfortable with his persistent positivity.

"Alright. But, before you say more, I also need to confess something to you."

He tried to interrupt, to reassure her in some way; but she set down the blossoms and took his hands in hers. "Please?"

Though part of him wanted to shout out the affections he'd come to share, he found himself again unable to deny her a request. The touch of her hands was electric; the urgency in her eyes was paralyzing. Taking some satisfaction from their privacy, contact and intensity, he ran his thumbs gently across her thin fingers and nodded her to continue.

Squeezing his hands back, she took a breath and shared that, "For the past week, I've been troubled, and you all have been politely silent, about the fact that I can remember nothing of my life before waking on that ship. All the absence, and now the attacks, only add to the others' suspicions of me—I can do nothing right, nothing to put them at ease. Or myself."

"That's not true, Cali," he consoled. "We all have lots of questions to answer; but none of us thinks badly of you." _Exactly the opposite, actually!_

"And yet those questions keep me from fitting in here; and my not remembering keeps my past from me as well. I look out at the stars from which you say we came, and at this planet we now inhabit, and I see nothing familiar, nothing of myself in any of them. I don't belong anywhere." Tears welled in her eyes, as she named her solitary situation.

Lion-O started to head off a tear's trek down her cheek, to share his own heartfelt connection in order to disprove her loneliness; but she cut him off quickly.

"I thought that was bad enough, but since the attack on the Warrior Maidens' village, I've come to understand that it's what I _do_ know about myself that frightens me most…"

Her confession halted his interjection instantly.

She continued, "I didn't see the pattern until I had the past two days to think; but we can't deny it's there, even if no one will speak of it: The Kittens have told me how that monster, Mumm-Ra, cannot stand the sight of his own evilness. My first night here, I was so alarmed by _my_ reflection that I've covered my mirror and been afraid to see myself since."

Lion-O again moved to object, but she cut him off. "Even Cheetara saw something about me that first night, something so terrible no one will tell me… Panthro has been suspicious of me since then as well, even before the Mutants clearly came for me at the party. Nayda blames me for the attack and the destruction at the village; and you were hurt trying to save me. I _am_ the cause of so much sadness."

She grew more visibly agitated as she catalogued concerns, heading off his attempt to dismiss or explain away the awkward if anecdotal evidence. "There's more, Lion-O; things I haven't told any of you yet…"

He felt her shiver, as she relived and recounted new revelations. "When the ape Mutant grabbed me from the tree platform, as we dove on his flying machine, he told me that it was 'time to come home,' as if I somehow belonged with him and his kind. And then, when I bit him—just instinctively—he began shouting about how he couldn't move his arm. I escaped because he couldn't hold me any longer, not because I got away…"

At these new pieces of information about her effect and escape, Lion-O's concern _for_ her began to shift to concern _about_ her.

But she had one more secret to share, as her tearing eyes both invited and unsettled him. "Worst of all—even though I'm sleeping better—my nightmares have continued, so much so that I can remember them now." Her expression turned from sorrow to fear, before the latter overtook her. "No, I shouldn't say it-"

"Calica, it's alright; you can tell me," he reminded without moving any closer, not entirely sure he wanted to hear what else she had to say.

She smiled briefly at his shared confidence, before the fear returned. "The dreams terrify me so… Because in the visions when I close my eyes, I am not watching, or suffering the destruction- I am causing it…"


	9. Chapter 9

Tears streamed down Calica's face, whether from the distress that understanding her dreams caused her, or from the fear of how he would react to her telling.

Lion-O knew she looked to him for some reaction, hoping for a positive one despite the confession. He struggled with the impulse to put his arms around her. She was hurting; and he wanted more than anything to make it better. She was under his leadership and protection, and was frightened; he needed to make it better. But she had apparently just admitted to hurting others. Many others. Somehow. Hadn't she? But how? How could she? And why? And what did that mean for her, for them?

As he hesitated, she wiped her own eyes. Though there was some relief at having voiced the troubling insights, and though she took quick comfort that he had not shouted, sent her away or run himself, his expression was clearly troubled. "Lion-O, what does it mean?"

Smarting from the sudden shift from his impassioned intention to her unexpected declaration, Lion-O also struggled to imagine her able or interested in causing any harm, much less the levels of destruction she'd described seeing in her dreams. Conflicted as he'd been by his feelings about her, and excited as he'd been to share them, now he didn't know how to respond at all.

Seeing that she continued to look at him for some response, and hoping that it was only her distress making her ineloquent, he smiled nervously and suggested, "When you say you were causing the destruction, you mean you weren't able to stop it from happening? That you feel somehow responsible for allowing it?" He considered what his elders had suggested, about her reliving memories of the destruction of Thundera, much as they had watched, powerless to stop it. In coping with the experience itself and the grief afterwards, at least the ThunderCats had had one another; she may have had no one since, and so blamed herself…

But, "No," she corrected, with a resigned certainty. "The dreams are always the same: The people are running from me, as I _will_ the fields to burn and _wish_ the buildings to fall. I am not a victim of the evil; I am its source."

Her expression made it clear how deeply this understanding bothered her, and implored him still to provide some comfort. But honestly and unfortunately, he was only able to shrug and share, "I'm sorry, Calica. I don't know what it means. I- I don't know what to say."

Having hoped he, out of everyone she knew, would understand or at least offer some solace, her anxiety only increased at his apology. Wringing her hands, she realized, "I should not have said anything; I've only made things worse… Again." Comfort not forthcoming, her despair grew; and she began to pace the small space, "It seems all I can do well is clean, craft clothing and cause harm: In my dreams. Here, to you and your friends. What kind of guest, what kind of person am I to have such a singular gift?"

Lion-O winced at the harsh self-description, but could not quickly dispute it.

Without waiting for him to, Calica turned out to the far-reaching landscape, "Perhaps it would be best to let the Mutants have me, and let them suffer my talent… At least they deserve it."

"No," Lion-O responded quickly, stepping forward with hands outstretched and speaking with a certainty born of his authority. "No, it has not, and will not, come to our putting you in danger simply because of some bad dreams, and the Mutants' typically terrible actions."

"Then what, Lion-O?," she begged him for something more than that single assurance. "I'll stay in Cat's Lair forever, so they can't hurt anyone in pursuit of me? From what you've all told me of the Mutants and Mumm-Ra, will that really keep anyone safe? And for me, can you order me to not sleep, or not to dream? No past, such a present, and what kind of future is that?"

He started to speak several times; but with nothing to say that either wanted to hear, he shared nothing beyond a pained expression. His arms hung at his side, his fists clenched in frustration at being able to do no more than be present with her in the undesirable circumstances. For his people, and for this particular one above all, he wanted to make it all right; but saw no new way forward.

Calica saw that he struggled, knew that he had the power to release some of the constraints upon her, and saw that he chose not to. In not having or sharing either answer or solution, the Lord of the ThunderCats had nonetheless spoken: How things were for her, was how they would remain. So be it.

"Please don't tell the others?" she asked him finally, taking a deep breath, and swallowing her hopes, disappointment and frustration. "They have reason enough to be wary of me." She didn't need to explain that her road was long and hard enough already.

Though keeping things from one another was not the ThunderCat way, and though he desperately wanted to seek the counsel of his friends, he couldn't deny that she was right, and that, alongside every other duty, he still wanted to make her happy.

In the silent agreement that settled between them, and with heads hung low, she noticed the discarded flowers and remembered that he also had sought her out this night, with something of his own to share. Welcoming the change of topics, and needing the good news he had earlier indicated, she forced a smile and asked, "You had something you wanted to tell me?"

He looked up at her, and realized that, while his feelings about her hadn't changed, they had been mixed into a larger, more complicated set of emotions and responsibilities. No less urgent in itself, his crush was tempered by his concerns. "I just wanted to say… that I'm glad you're safe, …after the …party, I mean," he offered haltingly, and with a tight, if honest, smile. Moving on quickly, he gestured toward the interior door. "It's getting late; we should get inside."

Again knowing he hadn't said all he could, that her sharing tonight had only added to her distance from them, from him, Calica nodded, followed his lead. "Thank you for listening, and again for the flowers."

They walked in silence back to her room, and parted with a simple, shared "Good night." Once the door closed between them, each leaned against it briefly, unhappy at the fact and quality of the parting, and also of their forecast.

* * *

A blue-grey hand stroked the bony chin, as he watched the heartaching scene in the water. And he couldn't help but chuckle.

Still, the fears that distanced her must be turned to bridges; and the leader's doubts needed to become bonds. Overcoming this apparent challenge would make them feel… closer. All they needed was one, little, final push.

* * *

"They both seem miserable," observed Bengali, as he handed Panthro another case of supplies, as nearly everyone worked in the Cat's Paw to load the Thundertank.

"And it's going to make us _all_ miserable," moaned Wiley Kit, acknowledging what everyone else was likely thinking—that it had been several days of activities, chores and meals with an especially quiet Calica and surprisingly sullen Lion-O.

Tygra shot a knowing glance at Panthro as he sealed another box.

Cheetara caught the shared look, and raised an eyebrow at both.

Observing the interactions as she finished her own preparations, Pumyra smirked, wiped her hands, and headed out across the courtyard toward one-half of their conversation topic.

Along the edge of the Lair's deep moat, Calica was sweeping out the opposite hangar, where they'd already loaded the flying vehicles for the upcoming runs. In working opposite everyone else, she'd honestly said she didn't want to get in their way today, though that distance also meant less chance of having to interact with a certain leader, who was also busily working elsewhere. Again.

Pumyra smiled at the sad obviousness of it all. She knew relations between their newest and their highest-ranking members had chilled after some private interaction. All the older 'Cats recognized a positive tension between these younger ones, and Tygra had suggested that Lion-O's private huddle with him and Panthro had been related to Calica. It didn't take Jaga the Wise to add those facts to know there'd been some hiccup in the budding romance.

As with magnets, Pumyra knew the power of the heart could easily reverse, from powerful attraction to powerful repulsion; inexperienced, and with lots of other pressures on them both, these two needed some help getting re-aligned. Her day's preparations complete, she accepted this challenge, for everyone's benefit.

"Don't you worry," she assured Calica, finding the newcomer staring out across the drawbridge with a nervous look on her face. "You're safe here. There's no way the Mutants can get across this..."

"I wasn't worried about 'getting in,'" corrected the cleaner, as she resumed sweeping back toward the building.

"You want out?" Pumyra asked, not wasting time being anything other than direct. "Do you want to tell me what he said, or didn't say, that's made you both so unhappy?"

Calica shot her a look of surprise, not expecting her to understand.

"Don't worry," her friend assured. "He hasn't said anything either; none of us knows what happened between you two." She kicked a pebble out into the chasm, as if what they were discussing was so insignificant. "So, do you want to talk about whatever is going between you and Lion-O, or shall I pester you with guesses until you and I can't stand to be in the same room either?"

Calica continued sweeping, with a displaced vigor. "You'll be spending the better part of the day with him in the Thundertank, you can ask him then."

"I'm asking you now…"

Calica stopped and met her gaze with an honest exasperation. "Being honest with what little I know only gets me chased or chores. And he leapt after me when I was in danger, but falls silent when I tell him what I'm feeling." She smiled sadly, honestly appreciating Pumyra's concern. "I know you are trying to help; and I thank you. Perhaps you'd have better luck with our leader."

"Pumyra," called Lion-O behind them, as he came down the main steps with a last load of the most delicate materials. "We're ready to go. It's a long road to the Wollo outpost."

"I'm going to help Snarf get dinner started," Calica turned to head inside through the hangar. "We'll see you all back tonight."

"Coming," Pumyra called over her shoulder, saddened by the hopelessness that had taken her new sister during her short time with them. While she agreed that talking to Lion-O might help, it ultimately came back to Lion-O and Calica having an honest, if hard, conversation. She needed to make that happen. As she turned to her day's mission with their leader, a wicked grin spread across her face. "Only…," she called to him, "I'm suddenly not feeling well…"

* * *

Slithe couldn't argue with Mumm-Ra's point: That he, alone among the Mutants, grasped the long, patient game afoot with the puppet. The others cared only for the day, the hour, the moment in which their efforts paid an immediate and obvious profit. Whereas he had deduced the wizard's intention to introduce the girl and increase her value to the ThunderCats by trying to possess her instead. While he didn't care that they might actually grow to care about her, he knew that they would not want their adversaries to have her; and that was enough to have them draw her farther and farther from the threat the Mutants pushed on her, and so closer and closer to them.

He did, however, take great issue with the insistence that he alone could manage this latest endearing endangerment. Especially as that meant crouching in the nosediver, in the midday sun, in the high mountain pass, in the hopes the ThunderCats would soon pass by. Finding a hidden perch deep enough in the mountains to ensure isolation and clear shot was easy enough. And if Mumm-Ra was correct about the Thunderian vehicles that had spread out from Cat's Lair that mornings and their destination, his target would arrive soon.

With any luck, he'd just be able to fire a few shots, feign an effort to grab the girl, flee from whatever resistance they inevitably put up, and find himself focused on dinner before the bogflies came out for the night.

* * *

"Yes, still comfortable. Thank you," Calica answered.

And the awkward silence settled between them once again.

Lion-O at least had steering the Thundertank around the twists and turns of the road to occupy him; as seemed too often the case—and especially so this day—she could only sit by silently and watch. _I should have brought my mending,_ she thought. But having been sent on this trip at the last minute, and with every square inch of space packed with cargo for the distant Wollo settlement, there hadn't been time or room.

There was room for such a small satchel, of course; but Pumyra had used the sizable cargo to also insist that she not take any distractions from the scenery, or the company. Having seen only bare rock sloping steeply above them, and dropping steeply below them as they passed valley and peak, she was beginning to consider a conversation as preferable.

For his part, Lion-O seemed determined to get them talking, whatever the topic. "Did anyone tell you why they call these the 'Ironstone Mountains'?" he tried again.

"Because they're made of ironstone?" she suggested politely.

"Well, yes," he acknowledged, glancing at her with some disappointment on realizing the obviousness of his question. "I guess I meant why they call the rock 'ironstone.'"

Having learned that he was expecting her to engage next, she glanced at him with a narrow smile and shake of the head.

"Because the stone is hard as iron," he proceeded. "Almost nothing will affect it, except the sheer power of lightning." He grinned at her quickly, before turning his eyes back to road. "The path we're on was a natural shelf that the Wollos and other traders have tamed slightly, through years of cart traffic and hard labor. Sorry for the bumps."

She nodded, and turned her eyes back to the thin trail with bare rock sloping up or down in every direction.

Lion-O sighed, and wrung the controls with a defeated frustration that carried into his voice. "Calica, are we really going to spend this whole trip in uncomfortable silence or curt small talk?"

"I'm sorry," she said, somewhat truly. "Tygra has shown me all your records on the Wollos. You know everything about me that I do. And when last I tried to talk with you, you made it clear what your responsibilities required." While her tone was pleasant, it was clear that she was genuinely discouraged and at a loss of how to engage him.

She was correct, if blunt, Lion-O knew. He didn't know exactly what he wanted her to say, and obviously hadn't said the right things himself. _Why is this so hard?_ He didn't like the situation any more than she did; but, in a way he hadn't experienced before as leader, he didn't know how to resolve it. And he didn't feel comfortable talking further with his friends either; this felt more personal than most of his other dilemmas. And he felt like he should be able handle this himself, that this interaction should come more easily. In an entirely new and exciting way, he liked being with Calica; shouldn't being with her be simpler than it had become?

He realized she was looking at him, intently and for the first real time in days. _Is it my turn to speak again? Did I just say anything of that out loud?_ _Ohhhh, this is excruciating…_ And so, before he'd even thought of what it would be, he opened his mouth to say something.

That's when the first explosion erupted to their left, along the edge of the narrow road, causing little more than sparks against the rocks or Tank; but was startling enough for Lion-O to swerve right, up onto the slope of the mountain.

Calica had just enough time to gasp, when the second blast bloomed beside her on the passenger side.

Able to do little to the largely impervious stone, the force instead reflected up and under the now angled vehicle, launching that side into the air.

As Lion-O reached out with one arm, vainly trying to brace Calica against the spin, the Tank flipped; and she was half-thrown and half-jumped out of the open canopy. Struggling to regain control, Lion-O remained inside as the claws scratched uselessly against the impenetrable stone. Unable to get traction to stop itself, the heavy Tank tumbled and slid down the steep slope.

Having firmly landed clear of the tankslide, Calica saw it finally land upside down in a particularly rough spot farther down the slope, the treads continuing to turn helplessly as the dust settled around it. "Lion-O!" she shouted, still unclear what was happening or where the danger had originated.

As if to answer the question, another energy blast flew past her, and bounced harmlessly off rocks below.

Calica heard the familiar whirr of a Mutant vehicle approaching from up the mountain. She clambered quickly toward the smoking wreck, her instincts to flee the attacker and to find Lion-O working together. "Lion-O?!" she called out again, as there was no sign or sound of him from in or around the crash.

As he buzzed past her, surveying the scene as well, she recognized the green Mutant–Slithe. He too seemed surprised that the Lord of the ThunderCats hadn't leapt into view, brandishing his sword and growl.

"Fraidy 'Cat!" he shouted as he circled, seeming reluctant to swoop in closer. "Come out, come out, Lion-O! I've come for your mottled girlfriend!"

That same woman crouched on the Tank's exposed metal underside, glancing nervously between his closing spiral and the non-appearing ThunderCat.

For his part, Slithe was torn between the giddy possibility that he'd actually rid them all of the young 'Cat leader—a victory not even Mumm-Ra could claim, and the realization that his goal had been only to _almost_ capture the girl. Surely the larger win was more important, as defeating the ThunderCats was the ultimate goal. Had he, Slithe, singlehandedly begun the downfall of the wretched Thunderians, and begun the rightful ascension of the Mutants? He couldn't help but grin at the possibilities. What a good day it was likely to be indeed!

Suddenly, the nosecrawler rocked as if it had struck something; but as he righted the hovercraft, Slithe knew quickly that something had stuck to him. Before he could wrench his head around enough to see, he felt a sharp pain in his tail. The icy burning sensation was almost immediate, and thrashing his fifth limb wildly to shake off its clinging source only spread the pain faster.

The nosediver rocked again, as the rear weight disappeared; and Slythe struggled against the disturbance and his own physical pain to settle the craft roughly on the ground. Howling as he realized he couldn't move his tail at all, he extracted himself from the controls and looked up to see a multicolored Thunderian rushing at him.

Seeing that her eyes burned with a similar fire as he felt in the stiffening tail he cradled, he understood that she'd bitten him, and clearly intended to do him more harm.

On him in an instant, Calica scratched and snarled, her fear and frustrations freed on this worthy target. Recalling the satisfying destruction in her dreams, she wished that level of harm on the reeling reptile before her. "I am tired of being hunted and hidden away," she seethed at him. All she knew in the world was the pressure of her relatives' distrust and this enemy's desire for her. And now she had this one in her hands, who had attacked her, her kind and her… Lion-O. Indeed, this one deserved whatever she could loose upon him; and she had much to repay despite her short memory.

"Please," Slithe shrieked in terror, still not quite believing the slight figure could hold and hurt him so, despite his injuries' cries to the contrary.

"Why won't you leave me alone?" she demanded of him, suggesting percussively that a response was expected promptly. "What is it that makes me so interesting to you all? Why me?"

Almost enjoying the sudden power she had gained in the situation, she playfully snapped at him between questions, as he began to weep in agony and fear. Knowing how much she had cried in her few days, she almost laughed as he howled each time she nearly sunk her teeth into his arm, shoulder or cheek.

Through his weakening struggle, heightening cries and her own pumping heart, another sound reached her ears. Quickly, she realized from where and whom it was coming…

"Calica," the raspy call came, seeking, not scolding, her. "Calica?"

The concern and fear in Lion-O's voice snapped Calica from her rage; and she rose and turned toward the Thundertank.

Not too hurt or frightened to flee, Slithe seized on the distraction, and scrambled back onto the nosediver, tail dragging and legs weakening. Punching at the controls, he slurred, "I'm done. Mumm-Ra can have her! You can have her! Nothing is worth this…"

Calica crouched to leap after him, but was called again as Lion-O seemed to grow more desperate for some indication of where and how she was. She was tempted to follow the Mutant, to get her answers, or at least finish his justice; but she realized she had hesitated just too long to close the distance he was trying to put between them.

Seeing that opening road, she also considered making a break for herself, not so much to seek the Mutants, but to escape the confines of the ThunderCats and see the world. Here, mobile and unattended, she could do more than peer out from the Lair, she could prowl out into it.

A wet cough behind her, drew her attention to a bloodied hand that now stretched out through narrow opening into the Tank's wrinkled cockpit.

For his flaws, and now his fall, could she leave him?

"I'm here," she called after another moment's indecision, scrambling forward to take his hand to confirm her presence. "Lion-O, are you alright?"

"I'm pinned," his muffled voice said. "Can't move. What happened?"

"The green Mutant attacked us," she explained as she pushed and pulled at the heavy machine, and clawed futilely at the ground. "But he's run away now." Despite her efforts, she could not move either the vehicle or ground to free or reach Lion-O.

Quickly, the fervor of her assault on Slithe was rekindled against the stone and steel; and she worked her own claws bloody trying to expand an opening to him, or shove the crushing weight off him. All to no avail.

"I can't move it, Lion-O," she finally sobbed, as a new exhaustion washed over her. She sank beside his arm, and looked out on slices of sky above the rugged peaks; with no help on the horizon or hope of her saving the day here, the world seemed too small yet again, for entirely different reasons.

A tapping at her leg, reminded her that Lion-O also was in need of some assurance, "Cali, please. Are you OK?"

She wiped her eyes and took his hand gently, growing more concerned on seeing for the first time that the blood wasn't from the hand, but had run down his arm to it. He was injured, perhaps badly, beyond where she could see into the cavity under the Tank.

"I'm fine, physically," she confirmed, gently caressing his hand as it was all else she could do for him.

"Good." He returned a gentle squeeze, sharing some of the comfort that knowledge, and contact, could offer. "The other ThunderCats will come for us, when we don't reach the Wollo village as scheduled."

Seeing his free hand, any of the other ThunderCats would encourage him to call the Sword of Omens from within the wreckage. Having not seen the full range of its powers, or too distraught to suggest it, Calica did not ask that miracle of him. Still, he didn't tell her that he it was likely crushed against him, where the Tank and rock had collapsed around his opposite side. He doubted the Sword's blade was the sharp edge dug into his thigh; but just as well he not attempt to command it to burst from under, or through, him.

"That won't be for hours yet," she reminded him, as she was not without awareness of some parts of their plight.

"Then we have some time to talk, after all," he tried to joke, as the laugh turned to another unhealthy cough. "Tell me what happened… I remember the explosions, trying to keep the Tank on the road. Then you were gone, and I was tumbling…"

"I didn't really think," she said, wiping some of the blood of him with a piece of fabric ripped from her dress. "I just leapt out. The Tank settled here, and Slithe came to gloat and finish us."

"He didn't," Lion-O observed what he could having not been conscious of the moments after the crash.

Calica considered how much she should share, as being open with Lion-O had not gone well just days before. In fact, it had resulted in the distance, which lead to this arranged roadtrip, which lead to their current predicament.

His hand closed easily around hers, as if he knew she needed some encouragement. "I'm sorry for how I reacted the last time we talked. I should not have been silent and left; I promise not to walk away now."

She smiled as his apology, attempt at bridge-building, and apparent continued comic intentions. "I came to check on you, and he followed. When he got close enough—Again, I didn't think, I just leapt… onto his machine, and bit him."

"You fought him off?" he asked with some proud surprise.

She hesitated again, but chose to be honest again. "The bite seemed to affect him badly. He landed, and I attacked him." She grew still and quiet before confessing further, "Lion-O, I wanted to kill him. I tried to."

"But you didn't."

"I couldn't…," she almost regretted.

He didn't speak or move for a moment, and she was struck by the fear that she had foolishly said too much.

But he caressed her hand with his thumb, pointing out, "So you're not the destructive monster in your dreams, after all? And that you can't magically move the Tank shows you have no supernatural abilities triggered by emotions." His voice was low, but firm, full of confidence and consolation.

She gripped his hand more firmly, in gratitude at first, before she was seized by another realization about her larger position in his world. "It also means I'm no ThunderCat."

"Most Thunderians aren't," he reminded gently. "And that you wouldn't hurt him, and that you worked so hard to protect me, that shows you've got the qualities at heart." He swallowed loudly, both from the dry throat among other symptoms, and from a rise of positive emotion out of place amidst his injuries. "You may not be a ThunderCat, yet; but, you're no less important, or special, Cali. To me, especially."

Able to wash him a little better with the tears from her eyes, she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his hand and then the hand against her cheek.

For a long moment, they shared that connection alone at the wreck on the side of an isolated mountain with hours to go before anyone would realize they were in trouble.

Both stirred, then tensed, as a mechanical sound echoed around the pass toward them.

"Calica, what is it?" Lion-O whispered, a little worry creeping back into his voice.

"I can't see yet," she answered, having frozen in place in case it was more opportunistic trouble. Then, "It's Pumyra and Cheetara!" she shouted happily, as she gently released his hand to stand and wave them in.

Calica ran toward the Hovercat as it settled nearby, and embraced Pumyra with a rich mix of relief, happiness and desperation. "You found us! Lion-O's injured and trapped," she re-focused their attention quickly.

Resisting being led to him, Pumyra instead leaned back into the vehicle and hit the communicator, "Pumyra to Lair, we've found them! But we'll need the Feliner and all hands to help…" She waved Cheetara and the Thunderclaw toward the Tank, as Calica dragged her in that direction.

"Don't worry," Pumyra reassured the smiling but agitated newcomer, "We'll get him out; he'll be fine."

In this moment, for the first time, that was all Calica cared about.


	10. Chapter 10

"No chance, Mumm-Ra!," the motley Mutants shouted with one voice. Monkian actually fled from the room.

The wizard also stopped listening, and faded from their midst as their unanimity collapsed into a chorus of complaints. He didn't need to hear the details to know that they were more frightened of her than appreciative of the patient genius she represented.

"Fools," he mumbled to himself, as he turned from the cauldron. "Ingrates." _They cannot understand what success we've already had in integrating our pawn into the family_ , he thought to himself. _Today's 'defeat' was simply needed to complete the trap._

"A shame the Plundarrians lack the foresight to participate in springing it. I will enjoy that pleasure, and this victory, alone," he cackled. Such solitude was often the fate of one who lived forever. But this celebration would also be eternal; and that was what mattered most.

* * *

Having seen to her chores, and checking in on the fast-recovering Lion-O, Calica called back to Panthro as she jogged across the drawbridge several days later. "I promise I'm just going to the cloth shop; and I have my communicator if anything happens..."

He waved after her, before turning back to the near rebuild of the Thundertank he was still only just beginning. Like the others, he was glad that Pumyra had insisted that she and Cheetara follow behind Lion-O and Calica on the day of the attack that left the Tank in this state. Seems their sprinter wasn't the only 'Cat with good intuition for trouble. The Tank was reparable, if badly damaged; but, if they'd been a few hours later in reaching the wreck, and calling in the Feliner to carefully lift it off Lion-O, only the treaded occupant of the Lair might have been saved.

Despite the damage to their vehicle and leader, the young Lord and their multi-colored mystery had clearly mended the tension between them, that had led Pumyra to send them out together. While still awkward enough for the older 'Cats to notice, it was clear they had moved from cold distance back to awkward attraction. If sometimes painful, it was still reassuring, and amusing, to watch the eternal infatuation dynamics play out on this new planet too.

Their other, less enjoyable throwback to Thundera, the Mutants, had apparently given up on breaking up the pride as well. They'd turned tail quickly the only time their paths had crossed with the tiger cousins several days before. Hopefully, they'd learned a lesson and would leave Calica, and everyone else, alone. At least for a little while.

All this had combined to make their newest member freer, and thereby everyone happier. Despite his initial concerns, Panthro had to admit Calica was OK. She was ready to help anyone, including him with the dirtiest repair tasks. Snarf complained less with his household load lightened through her assistance. And, she was apparently not too shabby at running off reptilians. And, Lion-O did seem to glow around her, in a way that couldn't help but warm the hearts of those who hadn't known love in a while, but could now hope for themselves again.

While there were still many questions to be answered about Calica, to be sure, Panthro felt that she was definitely becoming an important part of the family.

* * *

Smiling herself for many of the same reasons, Calica headed cheerfully and directly to the weaver's at the far side of the Wollo market. She was surprised to be greeted by an unfamiliar face approaching through the piles of cloth and clothing.

"Where is the weaver?" she asked with some concern, though still entranced by the wealth of bolts and bundles stacked and standing about the stall.

"She is tied up at the moment, my dear," croaked the wrinkled woman. "Working cloth is an engrossing craft, as you know. It is my pleasure to help you today. You're one of the ThunderCats, I believe?"

"Oh no," Calica blushed, at the apparent compliment. "We share a common origin, I'm told; and I am their guest. But I am not a ThunderCat."

"But they say you reside at their Lair; and you look so much like them…," noted the woman, running her cold and callused fingers across Calica's hands.

"They have been kind enough to take me in, but—"

"Of course; they are so generous, like that," interrupted the Wollo, apparently eager to connect the feeling with a possible trade. "Perhaps you could show them your gratitude with a gift?"

"Exactly!" Calica exclaimed, thrilled that her idea was confirmed by this stranger. "Do you think they would like something?"

"More surely and permanently than just the words alone," assured the craftswoman, gesturing to the assortment of finished goods around them. "And everything here has been made with care; it's simply a matter of finding just the items that they deserve."

"And it is all beautiful," exclaimed Calica. "But if I'm to truly express my thanks, the gifts much be very special…"

"I understand you have a gift with clothwork; perhaps you could make them something. Unique and by your own hand…"

"They do seem to like my skill with needle and thread," admitted the potential client. "Do you think they would like me to make them something?"

"Nothing made by others would speak so clearly of the gratitude and affection in _your_ heart, yes?" posed the woman, to the agreeable cat. "And I do have one particular bolt; but I have been saving it for only the truly special occasion."

"Oh, but this is special!" insisted Calica, worried that she was still not expressing the magnitude of her feelings sufficiently. "They have saved me several times, given me a home, a family. I owe them everything; surely that's as special as occasions can be!"

"Indeed." With a knowing smile, the old Wollo waved Calica to follow her toward the backmost corner of the workshop. Reaching under the bench, behind spools of thread and bottles of dye, she pulled out an ornate metal box. Motioning her customer closer, she lifted the lid, and exposed rich folds of a rather dull-looking cloth.

Calica tried unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment at the drab color and texture after the considerable buildup.

Chuckling, the crone chided her, "Don't be deceived by plain appearances, my dear. This is a shifting satin, an amazing cloth that can change color to match the look, mood and needs of its wearer."

"How…?"

"I shouldn't say," demurred the old woman.

"I promise not to tell," swore Calica. "Seamstress to seamstress."

Glancing about again, the woman leaned closer, dropped her voice and confided, "It's made from a very rare thread—fibers spun on Third Earth by only a very… small community of artisans. Another of its qualities is that a little goes a long way; so this should be more than enough to cover them effectively. And I have a few more of the little gift boxes, if you'd like to surprise them all at once; how many friends did you say there were?"

As the woman counted out exactly the correct number, Calica was already imagining the possibilities both in designs and in improved relations. "I'm so glad that I'll be able to share something with them. They've already given me so much."

"You are a very thoughtful girl; and I promise you they will be _very_ much surprised!"

* * *

It was a glorious day. And the entire Cat's Lair clan was enjoying a picnic feast on the fields stretching out before the feline stronghold. Laughter, smiles and the occasional piece of food flew, as they enjoyed a well-deserved, relaxing afternoon after weeks of busy, dangerous and costly battles with the Mutants.

"Well, I don't know if it has quite as much cinnamon as I put in mine," said Snarf, as he gave himself two extra scoops of applesauce, after refilling Lion-O's plate. "But it's not bad..."

Accepting this third helping of his favorite dish,(1) the still bruised leader cast another wide smile at the cook, who was fussing over keeping other platters filled. His leg still bound from injuries, but insistent on being part of this affair, he hadn't seemed this happy since before the recent attack in the Ironstone Mountains.

Pumyra chuckled to herself, remembering the old adage that "The way to a cat's heart…"

At that moment, a napkin fluttered in front of each person scattered around the blankets. And suddenly, Cheetara was seated and calmly eating from her own plate, before everyone had recognized the breeze and grabbed theirs.

"Thank you, Cheetara," Calica grimaced to her. "I can't believe I forgot something as simple as that."

"It's my pleasure," smiled the sprinter, "especially after you went through the trouble to prepare all this. It's beautiful, and so tasty."

"Oh, but I had to," the soiree's coordinator reminded. "You've all done so much for me…"

Tygra interrupted gently, lest the appreciation outpace appetites; she didn't need to explain her thankfulness again. "While not necessary, Calica, today's party is certainly appreciated."

"Yeah, you can be this kind of grateful anytime you want to," mumbled Wily Kat as he reached across his sister for another sweet roll to go with the two already on his plate.

Refilling Panthro's cup, Calica leaned down beside Snarf, gave his neck a quick scratch and whispered, "Thank you, Snarf. Among many other topics, you're a great teacher on food and festivities."

He purred slightly, raising a smile on Lynx-O's face, as everyone continued to enjoy the good cuisine and company.

When even the kittens had slowed in their dining, and the tops had been returned to several of the serving dishes, Calica opened up the last of the supply cases they'd brought from the Lair. Pulling out an armful of small boxes, she caught everyone's attention and explained, "I won't start again on how grateful I am," she winked at Tygra. "But I do have one last, small token of thanks..." As she spoke, she walked around the circle, handing each ThunderCat in turn a metal cube.

When everyone had one, she clasped her hands excitedly, and invited them to, "Open them!"

Each 'Cat pulled out a simple, but superbly crafted cowl, each in a color matching their respective colorings and typical outfit.

"It's beautiful," exclaimed Pumyra, holding up her shawl.

"It _is_ beautiful," acknowledged Panthro, as he turned his around and over in his hands. "What exactly is it?"

"Put them on!" she invited, with a gleeful clap. "I hope they turned out OK..."

Encouraged by her excitement, and following her lead as she draped Lion-O's shoulders, all the ThunderCats donned their gifts.

"Snarf mentioned how you always head off into bad weather without any more covering than singlets and shoulder straps. So I made you these short cloaks so you can at least cover your shoulders and your heads in cold or rain."

Wiley Kit spun in place, twirling hers fan-like around her, as Kat practiced tip-toeing furtively with his pulled up over his head like a hood.

With another grin on his face, Lion-O looked back and forth from the fabric to Calica as she smoothed it around the neckline. "Beautiful," he concluded.

She stepped back to let him feel how it hung—long enough to provide good weather coverage for his shoulders, but not so low to interfere with his movement as he swung his arms. Murmurs of approval echoed all around, as they realized the fit and function, and noticed the depth of colors, patterns and even the twinkling threads spread throughout. Calica felt she might have just repaid some of her debt, have truly earned their respect as a contributor to the community, not just obligatory kin…

Until, Lion-O's smile dropped suddenly, at the same time that the Kittens groaned, and Cheetara cried out. Lynx-O dropped to his knees, and Bengali stumbled as he tried to reach him.

Lion-O and Calica turned to see each of the ThunderCats wilt in place, sinking or dropping to the ground.

"What?"

"So weak…"

"Snarf!"

"Thundranium?!"

"Calica, what have you done?"

Tygra fumbled with the clasp on his capelet, but couldn't quite get it undone, as the edging caught the sunlight and sparkled fiercely.

Confused and horrified, Calica turned back to Lion-O as he reached out to steady himself; she grabbed his arm, but could not keep him up or upright. "Lion-O!" He sank to the ground, his grip weak and his eyes fearful, as the Eye of Thundera at his side growled a warning too late. And, she knelt over him, among the collection of collapsed 'Cats, as a much larger shadow passed across him, and a blood-curdling cackle descended upon the meadow.

Across the field of friends, a giant blue-skinned and red-winged creature settled to the ground, grinning as he surveyed the stricken scene around him.

Calica recognized him from the descriptions she'd heard, and the video files she'd seen. But Mumm-Ra was certainly more terrifying in person, especially when her companions were all suddenly and inexplicably incapacitated.

The others had noticed their foe's arrival; but were unable to do more than call out in warning, or feebly attempt to stand. "Calica," the now doubly afflicted Lion-O gasped, waving her to move behind him.

"How are your friends enjoying your gifts, my dear? They seem speechless!" Mumm-Ra laughed to her. "The Micrits do make such exquisite string(2); and you dutifully did make such beautiful bindings." Cackling at the near lack of reaction from his adversaries, the mummy strode in among them, toward their leader, and kicked the white tiger as he passed him.

Finding herself implicated in their harm—her gifts had become threats, Calica stood instinctively, frightened for herself and her family. "Leave them alone, you—you- monster!" she shouted, as she frantically looked around for any resistance a ThunderCat might put up, or for any idea of what she could do, alone against this fabled and already victorious threat.

"You! What can you do, my little vixen?" he taunted with added glee. "You're not even a ThunderCat; and look where I have _them_ now? I made you from clay and fur clippings, foolish girl; and arranged for them to rescue and take you in. Oh yes," he confirmed as she and the ThunderCats processed that revelation. "And as my creation, you owe your very existence to me. Mind your place, brat, or share their fate…"

As he neared Calica and the prone Lion-O, Mumm-Ra passed by Panthro whose face was contorted in pain and anger. Weakly but determinedly, he rolled into the mummy's path, as if to challenge his advance.

Almost stepping over the useless bump, Mumm-Ra instead reached down toward the tired engineer. "As usual, your own compassion has doomed you," Mumm-Ra gloated to them all, then mocked as the ThunderCat clawed helplessly at the hands around his neck. "Conquered by mere cloth! If only you'd listened to poor Panthro: With no hair to share, he had nothing to offer my creation, no connection to her and so no sense of familiarity to be moved by." Mumm-Ra shook him, "Care to share a last 'I told you so' with your soft-hearted friends? Before I stop yours…"

Panthro could barely struggle against the ThunderCat-draining cloth, much less the Ever-Living's grip; but refused to give Mumm-Ra the satisfaction of breaking his gaze. The dark eyes looking back radiated immense satisfaction at the battle of wills the feline was likely to lose this day. The first of many defeats, if Mumm-Ra had his way.

The other ThunderCats could only look on in despair at seeing their most powerful warrior so unable to act, and at their being unable to do anything about it.

Everyone was then startled by the primal snarl that growled through the air, moving swiftly in the direction of the blue combatants.

Wrapping herself around Mumm-Ra's arm, Calica sank her teeth into him, pouring more than rage into what was surely a useless attempt to drive him away.

 _Brave, if futile_ , thought several ThunderCats, without much hope that she would be able to do much against an enemy who had long survived against all sort of attacks. Lion-O worried for her, wishing he could reach and lift the Sword or clawshield, to face Mumm-Ra with their proven power and reflective properties.

But, rather than batting away the bug-like hanger-on, Mumm-Ra dropped Panthro instantly and stumbled back. Shrieking with his first, true experience of physical pain in even his long memory, he tried desperately to shake off the misbehaving, if manufactured, Thunderian.

Tears streamed from Calica's eyes, as she struggled to hold her grip and bite, while simultaneously and somehow feeling some of the mummy's pain. Amidst his flailing, she understood that she was connected to him by more than teeth and claws at the moment, that his memories and intentions were the same as her disturbing dreams.

As the searing heat and cold spread up his arm, Mumm-Ra also realized that he'd been wise to hide in his pyramid of late, had been smart to avoid risking himself since creating her. But he'd never considered that _she_ would a threat to him herself. He'd shared a slice of immortal life to animate her, but she was supposed to be a weapon against the accursed ThunderCats. Now, she'd turned his life-energy against him, literally biting the hand that made her.

In that instant of physical connection, beyond their intertwined energies, they both knew that he was endangered by the combination of her unintended venom, and his immortality shared. In giving her a moment of his infinite life, he was no longer entirely ever-living. And he could see in her narrowed eyes, that she intended to invoke that life limit on him this day.

Weakened, hurting and imperiled as he had never been before, he began to revert to his mummy form. Shrinking and shrouding faster than she could adjust, Calica's bite and grip loosened; and Mumm-Ra was able to throw her off as he fell to the ground.

She landed in a crouch, ready to hurl herself on him again.

Mumm-Ra clutched at his undying arm, still amazed and agonized that it could hurt in the way it did. As the Mutants had complained of suffering from their brief bites, he wondered whether her prolonged injection would affect him so much more. The Plundarrians had recovered; but they had been barely scratched in comparison to his own wound, and they had been wounded before. He could not know how his own body, unfamiliar with injury, would respond, whether the sarcophagus alone would be enough to counteract this novel peril. He knew he could not risk it.

And so, as the clasps and seams on his enchanted cloth deteriorated with his weakening powers and physiology, Mumm-Ra screamed and thrust his hand out toward the glowering Calica.

Lion-O called out as his strength began to return, the cloth covering him quickly turning to rags. And Calica closed her eyes against the coming angry blast.

But instead of energy leaping from the mummy to her, Calica was lifted off the ground. With a quick cry from her, a large ball of light leapt from her into Mumm-Ra. As the mummy sighed with some relief but retreated into the direction of his pyramid nonetheless, Calica dropped to the ground, limp and unmoving.

"Calica!" shouted Lion-O, as he scrambled to her, ignoring the lifting weakness and lingering leg pain. As the others dusted off their disintegrating bindings, and watched to make sure Mumm-Ra was not returning, the Lord of the ThunderCats turned her over gently, and took her into his arms.

Pumyra settled beside him and felt for a pulse at Calica's neck, holding out hope against her still face and vacant eyes. She looked up to her tearful leader, who had already felt the conclusion she now confirmed. "Lion-O, I'm so sorry…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Snarf notes applesauce is Lion-O's favorite in _Return of the Driller_ (1.32).
> 
> 2\. _The Micrits_ used thundranium strands to weaken and immobilize Lion-O (1.41).


	11. Chapter 11

"No," he commanded quietly, shaking his head back and forth with the same slow intention with which he brushed aside a stray lock of multicolored hair from the eyes staring up at him.

"Lion-O," soothed Pumyra, looking to the ThunderCats who traveled from Thundera with their young Lord, for some indication of how to console him. She had been first to see his feelings for their newest arrival, but only knew him slightly longer herself.

They all gathered around the battle's casualty, as Wily Kit helped Snarf untangle himself from the remnants of his cloak.

"This is what I saw in my vision," realized Cheetara with horror, covering her face with her hands, as Bengali stepped up to support her.

Kat stepped instinctively closer to Lynx-O; and Panthro and Tygra split their attention between the surrounding skies and the sad scene before them.

"There must be something we can do…," their young Lord begged, paying nothing else his attention.

"If we're to believe Mumm-Ra, it seems he took back the life energy he gave up to animate Calica," surmised Tygra solemnly. "That's not something we can replace."

No one could argue, though none cared for the conclusion.

But Lion-O was not looking for that finality; quite the opposite. He had known death, to be sure: His childhood was punctuated by the loss of his mother, and then the destruction of his entire world. Parents, neighbors, friends had all passed away in his life. But never before his eyes in this way, not so personally. Not so that he could touch the evidence. Not when he could still hold what could have been.

"The Sword," he exclaimed suddenly, a desperate hope filling him as he looked around for where the fabled blade had fallen.

"Lion-O," Lynx-O began to interrupt gently. "The Sword of Omens is powerful, indeed. But it cannot bring the dead to life." _How many in its line of wielders had wished that were not the case, when they could not save those they led and loved?_

But "Jaga!" called out Lion-O, neither hearing nor happy with the harsh reality his friends had to offer. He tenderly lay Calica on the ground before him, drew the blade from its scabbard and struggled to his feet. "Jaga?"

Knowing they would not be able to see the wise spirit, even if he answered the summons, the pride opened a space in their circle for him. They shared their leader's grief and anger, Pumyra especially; but none believed for a moment that even the mystic advisor could turn this ending happy.

Lion-O pointed the Sword at the body before him, and willed the mighty relic to reverse the unfortunate events of the past few minutes.

"Lion-O, son of Clawdus," a familiar voice whispered from beside him, "Heir of Thundera, hear me."

He started at the bearded figure's appearance beside and so close to him; but Jaga gave him no time to dwell on that new experience this afternoon.

"You have all come to a most unusual moment through these past weeks, having been visited by a rare thing..."

But Lion-O had no patience for grand reflection; with tears in his eyes, he had a single goal on his mind, "Jaga, how can I have the Sword bring her back? With what command or quest can I right this wrong?"

Unsure whether Lion-O was speaking with, or still calling out to, Jaga, the other ThunderCats did not see the vision place his hand on Lion-O's shoulder, offering what ethereal consolation he could. "The Sword cannot create life…"

"Then it can transfer it, from me to her…" Lion-O protested, desperate. "I will give up my life, so that she can live again."

"No!" the others reacted, hearing only one side of the apparent conversation; but not liking what they could.

"Life cannot be exchanged in that way, Lion-O," Jaga explained with his eternal patience. "Your death here would only add to death. Neither the Sword, nor I, nor even you, for all your intended selflessness, can change that fact."

"But Mumm-Ra gave her life, and took it away. Surely there are other possibilities in that equation. Pain and destruction are easy, so freely Mumm-Ra hands it out. So if he of all beings can create, then please say that goodness can as well?!"

"Now you are thinking like a ThunderCat Lord," smiled the spirit. "Life is a most precious gift, Lion-O. One that can be wasted, threatened and even ended; but not ...un-given."

"I don't understand, Jaga: You say he cannot un-give life; but we saw him end hers. And if we cannot give it ourselves, where does that leave us?" His teacher had given him some hope for undoing the demon priest's deal; but he could not see how.

"Calica was not the product of Mumm-Ra alone," Jaga reminded. "She shares your kinship, through the samples of hair the Mutants took from each of you."

"Then Mumm-Ra spoke the truth about creating her from us as well?"

"Even evil is occasionally honest. Inconsistency is one of its distinctions from good's constancy." Jaga shifted to face his young care. "Mumm-Ra's passionate hatred was the spark that made her possible out of even his malignant energies. But there are other sparks, other …positive passions."

 _Passion…_ He felt anger at Mumm-Ra. And sadness for losing Calica. And shame with himself for not stopping it. But as real and overpowering as they were, these emotions could not be the positive ones Jaga meant. No, beyond his duty as Lord of the ThunderCats, underlying the Code of Thundera, he understood that he was motivated here by a new, unique and encompassing passion: love.

He smiled briefly as he understood the name and nature of his feelings, and that they could be key to restoring his relations. Then, he grimaced anew, realizing that if Calica had been made, at least in part, from him, that also made her his child as much as Mumm-Ra's. And such passion for his… daughter, was an entirely new type and level of problem.

Expecting or recognizing the chain of thoughts, Jaga chuckled, "That would be a problem, Lion-O, had not Monkian lost the tuft of _your_ hair as he fled the beach; he substituted shreds of fabric without telling the others. So, Calica's attraction to you was entirely heartfelt, not woven into her being. She is connected to you, not by actual matter as with the other ThunderCats, but rather by mutual affection. Love, Lion-O; replenish the gift with love." He faded away, leaving Lion-O facing an expectant crowd, concerned by his wild range of expressions.

Not wasting more time to think through or explain Jaga's last instruction, Lion-O raised the Sword over his head and shouted a summons no kin could refuse: "Thunder. Thunder! ThunderCats, ho!" he called, as the Sword glowed and extended, awakening to their need. His own and the other ThunderCats' eyes flashed with the connection, all focused entirely on this common moment.

As the Cat signal dimmed above them, Lion-O knelt down beside Calica's still form, and placed the sword across her, so that the growling Eye rested above her heart. Placing one of his palms over it, and taking her hand, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his feelings for her.

Pumyra, then Cheetara, and then six others knelt and placed their hands on the hilt or blade, adding their own hopes and affection to the effort. Only Panthro remained standing, obviously struggling with the knowledge that his hunches about the visitor had proven true—she was the product and pawn of their greatest enemy, designed to destroy them.

But it also seemed clear that she had had no decision in that plan, had harbored no ill intent herself. Even today, the Sword had not indicated her a threat, only the Mumm-Ra-given gifts she'd innocently offered. Moreover, she had also grown on him for herself—helpful, happy, and on at least three occasions of late, a helluva fighter.

Where Lion-O would not look up from his world's focus, Pumyra did glance up at the panther, realizing their family circle was not complete. Panthro could see that she too was crying for her sacrificed friend; in that one expression, he could see the pain and loss felt across his small tribe. He turned his eyes to their young Lord; and understood that his were not the tears of the frightened youth who saw his world burn years ago. No, this man cried for heartache, for love lost. And how could Panthro judge that?

Pumyra reached out her hand to him; but he could only take a deep breath of his own memories and emotions.

Meanwhile, even feeling the presence of his gathered kin, Lion-O focused on his memories of Calica and the clear, growing and now honestly-admitted love he'd felt for her from their first meeting: Holding her when she sought escape from her dreams the first night at Cat's Lair. Glimpses and grins across the Warrior Maiden party. Panic at her capture. How beautiful she looked on the Lair's high balcony. How comforting her presence had been when the ThunderTank wrecked, how electric her touch. And, just moments before, the joy on her face as she presented the picnic.

The Eye pulsed with each recall of what she had quickly come to mean to him. And to them all. But still, she did not stir. For what seemed an eternity, there was nothing but its hum.

Afraid this might be a farewell after all, Lion-O bent down, placed a quick kiss on her graying lips and whispered, "I love you, Calica."

At that moment, he felt a strong hand settle atop his on the Eye, as Panthro added his hopes to their effort. And the Eye growled as a new warmth spread out among them. The throbbing increased in speed and strength, settling quickly into a steady, double cadence, almost… a heartbeat.

* * *

"But why didn't Jaga say something earlier? When she first arrived?" wondered Bengali aloud, as the clan gathered around the Council table the next midday, after a well-deserved, if watchful, rest for everyone.

"As the Sword's lack of reaction to her indicated," Tygra explained, " _she_ was not a threat to us herself. At no point were her own actions anything but innocent and honest. It was only at the picnic, where Mumm-Ra took advantage of her good intentions, that there was danger."

"So the Sword and Jaga had no warning to give," Lynx-O agreed. "And that is probably just what Mumm-Ra planned."

That threatening fact hung heavily among the ThunderCats, as Wily Kit and Kat finished setting out silverware.

"We'll need to be that much more cautious of him going forward," Cheetara spoke aloud what everyone was thinking.

Tygra named the dire lesson even more clearly. "Mumm-Ra was defeated only because of Calica's free will and affection; he hadn't expected her to turn on him, despite her having grown fond of us. So while he has much to learn about the power of love, he _is_ learning how that affection can be used to manipulate us. As he taps that great power, we all must be even more on guard."

The latest victory was tempered by its implications for their future conflicts with their persistence adversary. As he liked to point out, even among his frequent failures, Mumm-Ra had all the time in the world to learn and try again.

While they might not have endless time, the ThunderCats certainly could learn too. And they had one another, including a newly restored member, whose voice echoed in from the hallway. "I didn't say I didn't like Nayda or Willa; I just don't understand how a community of all maidens can be a _king-_ dom," Calica pressed as she, Lion-O and Snarf entered with lunch.

Smiles spread around the completed circle as the meal was shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Among its solve-all capabilities in the original series, the Sword is shown to heal. For example, in _Together We Stand_ (2.80), Jaga will advise Lion-O to call on all the Lords of the ThunderCats through the Eye, to heal a badly injured Lynx-O. While I get a little bothered by its fluctuating and fabulous powers, here I try to provide some explanation of the set of circumstances that allow the Sword/Eye to work an apparent miracle, without giving it the power to give life.


	12. Chapter 12

Lion-O heard the knock as he was putting away the last of the laundry he'd just brought up from the washroom. "Come in," he called, apparently not the last person up in the Lair after all.

When the door didn't open, and the knock repeated, he turned toward it, wondering if he'd locked it by mistake. But as he walked around the bed, he heard it again, but this time from the window. Approaching curiously but cautiously, he had to match the dappled grin waving to him from outside.

"You _could_ use the door," he suggested, as he helped Calica down from the sill, not letting go of her hands even once she was fully inside.

"I like to practice…" she explained, as she looked around and then pulled away toward his unfinished project. "I didn't mean to interrupt your laundry."

Cutting her off before she could reach the basket, he set it aside with a note of finality. "I told you I was serious about us all picking up our fair share of the chores. You and Snarf shouldn't get all the fun…"

Satisfied with his action and explanation, she nodded her thanks and admitted, "Good. Because I didn't climb all the way up here just to fold your shirts."

"Oh, and what does bring you up the side of the building at this hour? Are you checking to make sure I can handle my own washing," he laughed as he waved her to sit on the bed while he demonstrably put a pair of socks in the dresser.

Amused by his evident self-reliance, she perched on the edge, and got to her point with a more serious smile. "I know I've said it a lot already; and I know Tygra mocks me for continuing to say it. But I wanted to tell you, in person and just us: Thank you." She took his hand as he sat beside her. "You could have easily let me go, especially after seeing what I did, what I am."

He shifted in place, preparing to interrupt her; but she was expecting his protest, and so placed a finger gently across his lips. "And beyond the whole 'bringing-me-back' thing, and even as you've been on the mends yourself, you've made a point to check in with me, and include me in the larger 'Cats activities. You in particular have been so clear that what happened with Mumm-Ra, didn't affect how you see me. From the first night, you especially have been there for me. And it means a lot to me."

To punctuate her gratitude, she leaned over a placed kiss on his cheek.

His eyes were closed when she sat back; and he didn't move or even breathe at first—as if he'd frozen in place, with a calm, contented look stuck on his face.

But before she could grow concerned at his lack of reaction to her gesture, a blush and wide smile spread across his face, and he explained. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that." He opened his eyes gradually, and asked her very slowly and intentionally—not forced, but almost with concern any one word might elicit the response he wasn't seeking. "What do you remember from that afternoon, as you came to after Mumm-Ra …killed you?"

"Like I told you all before, I woke up with everyone gathered around me," she reminded. As he seemed to be expecting more, she thought back more intently to a day that remained largely great sweeps of emotion to her: happiness, fear, anger and comfort. "The Sword of Omens was lying on me. Everyone was smiling or crying, or both. And you were holding my hand." She smiled at the positive memory, and what new closeness with everyone had followed, despite her exposed pedigree.

He blushed again, and looked away. It seemed there was something he wanted urgently to say, but was again to hesitant to share. It was happening again.

"What, Lion-O? Is there something more? Something worse?" She was growing worried, at what additional revelation had been withheld, and how horrible it must be not to have been shared alongside her connection to that hideous creature.

"No, no," he corrected, not intending to worry her. "I was wondering whether you remembered something I told you, as you were waking up."

Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall any memories of him saying anything specific of significant before his tight embrace, and the shower of hands, hugs and good wishes from everyone.

"It's something I tried to tell you that night in the Cat's jaws, with the flowers. Something I should have said in the mountains, or sooner at the picnic, or any day since. It was easy to say when I thought I'd lost you; and so should be easier to say now that I have you back." He took both her hands in his, took a breath and just said it quickly, though sincerely, as he braced for her reaction. "I love you, Calica."

Her face lit up, with a glow he'd not seen since the day she died. "I don't think I heard you say it before; but it's more familiar, certain and comforting than anything else I've heard in my life. But," her expression dropped and she sighed; and her smile turned bittersweet, as she confessed, "it makes what I came to tell you tonight that much harder: In addition to saying thank you again, I came here… to ask for your permission… to leave Cat's Lair."

Lion-O felt as though she had punched him in the stomach; she felt that she had done so to him. She needed to explain; and he needed her to as well. "I have to go: Mumm-Ra thinks me dead, which seems to have brought you all some relief from him and the Mutants, at least for the last week or so. But as soon as he realizes I'm still here, he'll turn his sights on us, on me, with a terrible vengeance. I- I- …understand him enough to be certain of that.

"But even more important than that," she continued, stroking his arm to reassure him that she knew he would again do everything he could to protect her and all his people. "I need to go: I still haven't seen this world, or much life at all. And I know you'd show me," she cut off his next counterpoint. "But I don't even know myself, and that ignorance puts us all at risk."

She stood from the bed, and paced as she cataloged the issues she embodied. "I've heard the talk amongst the older 'Cats, Lion-O—around corners, through the vents… And I have to wonder the same myself. Even revived by the Eye, I am still at least as much 'Mumm-Ra's child' as I am relative to the pride. Does my heritage from so many of you mean I'm destined to be a ThunderCat? Have I, or will I, earn that honor-–truly in my own right? Or, regardless, would it be wise given who my-- my father is? Can you really trust me, or afford to?"

"We've had questions since you arrived, Calica," Lion-O reminded, as he stood and joined her in reassurance, "Now we just have some new ones. But I know everything I need to about you. We can face the unknown together." His fear of losing her again was also clear in his expression.

She smiled at him, relieved by his immediate confidence and personal connection. But, "I want to be here, with you, too. That doesn't mean it what's best for right now. Beyond everything else, you and I are also part of the unknown. You're not even twenty yet, and were asleep for quite a few of those years…"

"You're not that old yourself," he reminded, with a little irritation at being lectured on his youth.

"I'll be a month in a few days or so," she specified. "And that's part of my point… We're _both_ so young, despite our appearance otherwise."

He crossed his arms in reaction to the familiar too-young-to-know-better sentiment.

She placed her hands on his unhappy barrier, and soothed, "If I'm to bring the best of me to the ThunderCats, to you, then I need to figure out who I am, really. Not in relation to Mumm-Ra, or the ThunderCats, or even you, as wonderful as you are. With some time and experiences on my own, I can answer some of those questions, and be more honest and sure with all of you." Seeing him pained by her adamancy, she placed one hand over his heart, confirming. "And I do want to be with you. But I need to know, really know, who I am, to trust what I bring to that relationship."

He clenched his jaw under a forlorn look, as she tried not to cry for the wise, if unpopular, decision she needed to make. "I know that's not what either of us might want; but it's the truth, Lion-O. Does that make any sense?"

She could tell he didn't want to agree. Silence was preferable to the mix of emotions she was causing; and perhaps gave her space to do more convincing, as much of herself as of him.

"Beyond what we feel," she continued, "I understand that there's pressure on everyone to continue their lines… I hear Snarf and Lynx-O talk about that quietly too. And, I imagine that expectation is strongest on you especially as Lord of ThunderCats. But for that very reason, you must be all the more certain in whom you choose. Please tell me you understand?"

He took and held her hands between them, digesting everything this night and the previous weeks had brought into his world, life, duties and heart. Unable to argue her points, he let his heart speak: quietly, meekly, but honestly. "I don't want you to go."

"Are you ordering me not to?"

"I'm _asking_ you. Stay?" Pleading, he took her face gently but firmly in his hands and kissed her for measurable, memorable, magical moments.

Leading her from the window, he made one more effort to convince her that their place was beside one another, this night and beyond.

* * *

"Lion-O?"

Though he heard the concerned, friendly baritone summons, he didn't move from his lookout from the Cat's mouth.

Panthro joined him at the edge, placing a plate of the evening's meal between them. "You need to eat."

"Thank you," Lion-O nodded, "But I'm not hungry."

"I promised Snarf I'd get you to eat. Please don't make me a liar." He modeled eating a slice of meat from the solo cook's efforts.

Another nudge of the plate got Lion-O to begin picking at it dutifully, if not hungrily.

With his immediate goal met, Panthro shifted gears. "Any sign of her?"

"No." So disappointed and deflated.

"I'm impressed that, with the drawbridge retracted, she managed to get over the cliffs behind the Lair. She's definitely full of surprises," the engineer chuckled.

"How could she leave?" complained the young Lord, concerned less with her means of departing, and more with her motivation. "She told me she feels the same about me. And never mind the dangers of Third Earth, she's new to everything…"

"I think she may be better able to handle herself than we might credit her." Panthro rubbed his cheek, and thought of a number of adversaries who could commiserate even more strongly. "Beyond being able to climb well and defend herself, Tygra schooled her in much of the geography and inhabitants of Third Earth; Snarf taught her all sorts of plantlore and cooking; and she's handy with rope and fabric."

His concern still outweighing any confidence in her capabilities, Lion-O moved from their past experience to their future. "But what about Cheetara's vision: My holding a cub with the same green eyes as Calica. She foresaw the bad; why would the positive part of her vision be any less likely?"

"Perhaps Cheetara only saw possibilities, not guarantees. Remember that she also saw Calica lifeless; but not that you would save her. And who's to say an heir won't still happen, someday? She wasn't leaving forever, even though it may seem that way right now." He wondered whether Lion-O could hold that patience along with his passion.

Continuing to scan the horizon as the sun set, Lion-O sighed and confessed, "It hurts, Panthro. Even with the good reasons she gave, and as briefly as she was here, I miss her. I can _feel_ it," he said, as he pressed his hand again his own chest.

"That's actually a good sign, son." Panthro looked at his young leader with a compassion born of experience. "I feel it myself some days," he confided in return.

This broke Lion-O from his sentry; and he turned to face and follow-up this unprecedented revelation from the hardest of his heroes. "You, Panthro?"

The ninja chuckled at the expected reaction, hoping it gave him some credibility on this new, but important subject with their depressed regent. "In the last months on Thundera, when we didn't know what was coming, I was in love with a wonderful woman, named Onca.(1) She lived in Abyssin; so we didn't get see each other often. I hated being apart from her; and can still see the curl of her smile, her golden coat, her headstrong ways…" He grew wistful as he thought back to those times, before.

"Toward the end, I asked her to come to the capital, so we could be together, even leave together. She suggested I join her across the continent. We were a lot alike, she and I; and for lots of good reasons at the time, we both chose our responsibilities over our relationship."

He grew more somber, recalling, "Ultimately, all I could do was make sure she had a spot on one of the transports. But in the confusion of the escape, and with my focus on the flagship, I don't know whether they got away, or to where. And, like you've done for the past week, every day, I look up, and wonder, and feel a little pull at the separation, a little pain at the not knowing..." Panthro looked up into the spreading dark of the night sky. "It's never gone away, even if it's gotten a little easier to bear. Especially with our recent arrivals, I haven't given up hope of finding her again, of filling in that empty space inside." He spoke almost prayerfully, as though speaking an oath.

Pulling himself back to the reality of the here and now, and his responsibilities to his friend and leader, Panthro assured him, "We're all worried for Calica; and we've already put word out quietly among our allies to keep any eye out for our walkabout Thunderian. We'll all be watching for her, to help if she needs it, and to welcome her _when_ we're reunited." His tone and expression suggested he was thinking of a people, and a specific person, beyond just Calica.

"I _will_ wait for her, Panthro," Lion-O promised to his friend and the stars spreading out before them. "Like the Ice King on Hook Mountain, I will wait a thousand years if I must."(2)

"I know you will, Lion-O," Panthro said with a pat to his shoulder. "You're a man in love, and a ThunderCat; that's a powerful commitment. She knows that too; in fact, I'd bet she's counting on it."

* * *

Also peering out into the night, but by way of rippling cauldron, another Third Earth figure considered the whereabouts of the newest Thunderian, and also made a commitment about her.

"I too will be looking for my wayward creation," it chuckled. "But I will not wait on her to return to me..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. "Onca" is part of the binomial species name for the jaguar subset of panthers.
> 
> 2\. Ancient ruler who sought out his love even after being frozen in ice for a millennium, from _Secret of the Ice King_ (1.52).
> 
> While wanting to remain true to canon with OCs and events, I do have a couple of grazing plotbunnies that could fold into a sequel. If there's interest…


End file.
